


Sold My Soul To A Three Piece

by TwiExMachina



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Based on a Tumblr Post, Eventual Smut, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6335614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwiExMachina/pseuds/TwiExMachina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yata’s just a kid adopted by a weird family.  Just a kid, nothing more, nothing less.  Then he meets Saruhiko.  He still doesn't feel that different, but you can't be dedicated to someone like Saruhiko without noticing some things don't fit right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Yata's Life Starts, In More Ways Than One

**Author's Note:**

> I'd link the tumblr post it was inspired by, but since this ended up getting far longer than I thought it'd be, the tumblr post is spoilers. Whoops.

Yata waited three days for his mom and step-father to come home. Child services opened the door instead. His family was split up into different homes and he waited. He was alone. He had nothing. He was only ten.

\---

Then he was adopted. His family name was changed Nanase, but he always introduced himself as Yata and insisted that it was his name. It felt wrong to have a different family name. He was Yata for ten years why did getting adopted make him Nanase? He asked his adopted mother if he could be called Yata on the papers and around the house, but she just frowned at him and said “But our sunshine, why don’t you want to be one of us?”

It wasn’t like that, but he didn’t want to say anything. He wanted to be one of them, a family, part of something, but he didn’t want to be called Misaki and Nanase wasn’t his name.

But he wanted to be loved he wanted to fell love so _(please don’t abandon me I’ll be good I promise)_ his name was Nanase.

\---

The family Yata was adopted by was weird. They lived in an apartment complex, and he swore that everyone there was related in some way, just by watching his family interact with his neighbors. Everyone there was his uncle, his brother, his aunt, his sister. They didn’t look alike, but his adopted mom called the Korean man her brother, and so did his dad.

“We are all connected, Misaki,” is all he got in reply when he asked how an entire apartment building was related to them. He wondered if he was connected too, considering he wasn’t one of them. It wasn’t that he was adopted, it was because he didn’t get the same things everyone else did. He got a smaller table when too many people came over and they crowded around the dining room table, a room for just him when his adopted sister slept in his adopted parents’ room.

“You’re special, Misaki.” His adopted mother knelt down and hugged him. “You’re going to be great someday, our sunshine. You’re going to do great things.”

He thought he should start calling her ‘Mother’ now.

\---

Mother stopped him before he could march into his room. “Misaki, how do you like middle school so far?”

He didn’t know what to say. The school felt weird. It had this aura around it like nothing would ever sit right within the perimeters, not the foundation, not the people, not the air. He felt like he was floating sometimes and it wasn’t because he was falling asleep in math class. Everyone else felt it too, their fuses short and ready to blow at anybody colliding against their desk.

He didn’t know what to say. The first thing he did was go to the office and ask that his name be “Yata Misaki” instead of “Nanase Misaki” so he wouldn’t look so odd when he told everyone to call him Yata (and no one did and that was thankful but he felt like he was lying even though he was Yata).

He didn’t know what to say. He hoped it’d be easier making friends. But he had nothing and muttered his thoughts to his unopened carton of milk at lunch.

“It’s fine.”

\---

Yata made friends eventually. He did. It took him one whole term, but he had three, made before the summer break. Toji, Kyo, and Haru. They’d been friends for a month now and things were great and they hung out all throughout school. 

They never wanted to come over though. They had a laundry list of excuses. His family was weird. They had plans. They weren’t comfortable there. Their parents said no.

“Whenever we get to that apartment complex,” Toji said while Yata hovered his shoulder, watching him play a video game, “my mom tells me to walk fast and not look up. I don’t think she’d like if I went over. How can you even live there?”

“They’re fine,” Yata replied, glaring at the game because he didn’t want to glare at his friend and make him uncomfortable. He wasn’t mad at him. Toji did nothing wrong. The others did, the parents who made Toji think such things about his family. “Really nice, real friendly.” Yata leaned down and grinned. “I always get special treatment. Whenever people come over, I get my own special table.”

“Kid’s table,” Toji corrected.

“Nah, I just get a table all to myself. Kids get their own table. I get mine. It’s great.”

“Wanna play for a bit?” Toji asked and his lips twitched like he was forcing himself not to smile.

Yata grinned and grabbed the game and started playing while Toji texted someone.

\---

Yata met first met Saruhiko when he was biking home from school.

Yata had on his headphones and was bobbing his head to the beat, swerving on the sidewalk as he bopped this way and that. One of those this ways had him peering down an alley where a lanky boy sat on the ground with three others around him. One was gripping Saruhiko’s collar and shook him while two others stood behind him and laughed. He wasn’t doing anything but staring blankly ahead through his glasses. 

Yata squeezed the breaks and let his bike crash against the wall while he jumped off and ran to the alley. He couldn’t let someone be hurt like that. He let out a yell and clambered up the kid closest to him like he was a tree, latching onto him with his legs crossed against his stomach and his arms locked around his neck. He bit his ear and tugged, growling like a rabid dog. Saruhiko stared before he grabbed Jackass-Shaker’s wrists. He was fighting back! Yata whooped at the display before the guy he was clinging to slammed them both against the wall, sandwiching Yata between stone and him. Yata’s grip loosened as he let out a breath as his head knocked against the back of the wall, his vision blurring black for a second before light filled in the blanks and made everything too bright to see. The guy grabbed his arms and threw Yata over his shoulder and onto the ground. Yata saw stars and heard a scream, shrill like scratching glass. He scrambled up and held out his fists, ready to punch whomever was tormenting Saruhiko. 

But Jackass-Shaker was away from Saruhiko, holding his wrists. Through the tight grip, Yata could see bright red burns, the kind he saw his adopted brother got when he held his hand over the open flame on a stove and tried to command fire.

He was screeching. “You burned me! Fucker burned me!”

Saruhiko was still against the wall, his knees tucked up to his chest, hands out and ready to lash out and claw at anyone who came close. There wasn’t a lighter in his hand, but Yata would bet that it was hidden in the sleeves of his uniform. He seemed sneaky like that.

Sneaky didn’t win fights. They just made it easier to escape. Yata scrambled to his feet and charged Jackass-Shaker, slamming his elbow into his side so he stumbled and fell onto his other friend. He grabbed Saruhiko’s arm and hauled him up. “Move, dude!”

Saruhiko ran. They didn’t stop running. until breathing became difficult and Saruhiko pulled on Yata’s arm so he’d stop and they both leaned against the alley and panted for a long minute. “I think we got away.”

Saruhiko breathed heavily and looked at Yata.

“Fuck, I left my bike behind.”

Saruhiko stared. 

“Ah, I can go back for it. I know my way around. Hey, what’s your name?”

Saruhiko made a face and didn’t answer.

“You go to the same school as me? You’ve got the same uniform. Are we in the same class? I don’t recognize you.”

“What do you want from me?”

Yata wanted to reply “a name” but sarcasm felt wrong. Saruhiko spoke with venom, like he expected to be robbed in return for being saved from a mugging. Yata scrunched his face up. “I don’t want anything from you.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue against his teeth. 

“Tch!” Yata mocked. “The hell does that mean?”

“Do you expect me to give you something?”

“The fuck are you talking about, I just—”

Saruhiko choked out a bitter laugh. “Am I supposed to expect that you don’t want anything? That you did something completely selfless?”

Yata opened his mouth and closed it. He didn’t know how to talk to this kid. He looked his age, with messy hair and knobby knees. But he spoke like an adult, bitter and sour and dripping with contempt in a voice that still hadn’t quite reached deepness.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue again. “Just get your bike.”

Before Yata could say anything else, Saruhiko walked back the way they came. Yata stared before going back to get his bike. His first meeting with Saruhiko, and he didn’t even get a name from him.

\---

The next day, Yata stared at Saruhiko when he walked into the classroom and sat down in a window seat. They were in the same class. Saruhiko seemed too smart for them, spoke like he was ancient, was an entity on another level. Saruhiko also didn’t seem like the guy who spent five hours yesterday playing an old roleplaying game on his handheld while nursing his bruises.

And yet, here he was, in the same room as Yata.

“Hey,” Yata said, shaking Haru’s shoulder. Haru looked up at him and Yata jabbed his thumb in Saruhiko’s direction. “Y’know who that is?”

Haru squinted at Saruhiko, bent over his PDA. “Oh him? That’s Fushimi. Why?”

“Met him yesterday.”

“How’d that happen?”

“He was getting beat up. And I saved him.” Yata puffed out his chest and pounded on it with his fist.

“Really?” Haru said. He was smiling. Must’ve been proud of him. Haru leaned in close and whispered. “He’s kinda weird, isn’t he?”

Yata looked and shrugged. His skin was starting to crawl and itch. “I don’t know, I just met him. Talks really smart, I guess.”

Haru snickered. “Well, he’s a freak.”

“Who’s a freak?” Toji asked, leaning into the conversation when he entered the room. “Yata’s folks?” Toji elbowed Yata and laughed and Yata stared and started to grind his foot into the ground. “Kidding, Yata, kidding.”

It stun, but Yata forced himself to unbristle. He didn't want to get angry at his friends (even though _fuck you that's my family_ ).

“Nah, Fushimi,” Haru corrected and pointed.

Haru laughed. “Oh yeah.”

The homeroom teacher walked in and their conversation ended. Yata slapped Haru’s back and drifted towards his seat, looking at Saruhiko as he walked. 

He didn’t look up from his PDA.

\---

After school, he grabbed Saruhiko’s arm. “Hey. Did you hear what Toji and Haru said this morning?”

Saruhiko stared.

“If you did, I’m sorry.”

“What—”

Yata dropped his arm and left. A while after, he felt sick and thought that if Saruhiko heard his friends insulting him, he probably heard about Yata’s family.

\---

Saruhiko stepped in front of Yata a week later after school. Yata had to stay after class and endure a lecture and left while clubs were going on. All of his friends had things to do and couldn’t wait for him. Saruhiko seemed like a welcome conversation to fill the void. It wasn’t like Yata was unfriendly anyways. If someone would listen he’d talk and talk and talk. 

Yata smiled and raised his hand. “Hey, Fushimi!”

“Your friends,” Saruhiko said without any formality or greeting.

“What about them? Did they call you names again? Hey, I’ll talk to them—”

“They hate you.”

Yata stopped, felt the world shift and freeze. “What?”

“The one with the glasses, he thinks that you’re stupid and pathetic.”

But Haru laughed so often and wasn’t it genuine? 

“The light haired one thinks that you’re as much of a freak as your adopted family.”

But Toji let him play his games so didn’t he care about his happiness?

“And the black haired one has hated you since the moment he met you.”

But Kyo always walked at his side so didn’t he want to be there?

“He’s the one who gossips the most. He likes coming up with rumors about you. About anyone really, but he likes talking about you and your family. He’s the one who started that chat thread between those three just to talk about you.”

Yata couldn’t think anymore. He was processing the words, but he didn’t know what to do with this knowledge in his grasp. Was it real?

“We’re even now.”

That stuck in his mind. He replayed their conversations, those brief, odd things. Yata grabbed Saruhiko’s collar and punched his nose, ignoring the pain that creaked his fingers and instead focusing on the burst of blood flowing down Saruhiko's lips. “I didn't ask for this!” he yelled. Saruhiko stared. “I didn't want to know that!” Yata pushed Saruhiko and watched him fall. “Fuck you, don't fucking lie about my friends!”

Yata marched away, heard Saruhiko click his tongue and wanted to go back and break his nose.

\---

The worst part was that after all that, he began thinking about what Saruhiko said and honestly considering it. Once the anger faded, he was just sad and pensive. Yata didn't want to believe Saruhiko, but what he said made sense. At the end of the day, where were they? Yata only mattered when he was the only one there. When it was the four of them, they joked with each other, not him.

After school, they always had something to do. 

He was too sensitive, seeing things that weren't there, glaring at his friends and daring them to do something similar to what Saruhiko said. But his friends were nice, were good people. What Saruhiko said about Kyo was especially wrong. Kyo was a joker, smiled so often, wasn't cruel at all.

Saruhiko was just a liar. Even though he had nothing to gain from lying. He was just returning a favor.

Fuck, he was weird.

\---

Yata glared at his homework, forcing his way through the problems when his mother brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. “What's on your mind, Misaki?”

“Nothing. Just this problem sucks.”

“Misaki…”

He put his pencil down. “How do you know when I'm lying?”

“That time was because you've got your incredible annoyed face on.”

“But you've always known when I was lying. How?”

“Because I'm a mother.”

Well that solved nothing.

“Misaki, our sunshine, what is on your mind.”

Yata sighed and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “This guy talked shit about my friends. And I don't know why, but he doesn't gain anything from lying. But I don't wanna believe it. But either him or my friends are liars. So how can I know for sure?”

“What did he say?”

It burned his throat to think of it. “Bunch of shit.”

She gave him a look. She tended not to mind his swearing—his siblings got yelled at though and that was great—but Yata could tell that she wanted something specific.

“Like, they had a messaging system or something going on between the three of them about other people. How would he know that?”

She sighed and pulled a chair next to him. “Misaki, sometimes people lie. And they don't need a reason.”

Yata sighed and tilted his head back. 

“That, of course is the mundane solution. I tend not to like those.”

School always felt somehow wrong, the air itself unsettled. He felt it sometimes in alleyways. But never at home. Home was safe. But the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and the air felt thin. Kyo said he must've been imagining things whenever Yata brought it up to him. But he couldn't imagine something this wrong.

“There are people, very special people, but not as special as you, our sunshine. Those people can see things without substance. This boy might see the truth. He might see the messages in their minds. Perhaps that is why he told you, because a boy who can see things like that would want to tell everyone to make them feel better.” She smiled and the world snapped back into normalcy, safety. “Does that make sense, Misaki?”

He rubbed his eyes until they stung, until when he pulled his hands away sparks of light danced. “Yeah. Yeah.”

That didn't fit the boy who was desperate to even a score that didn't matter.

\---

Saruhiko walked into class and Yata noticed the dark purpling under his eyes, bruised from Yata’s punch, and fuck he felt _guilty_. Everyone snickered as he walked to his seat. It was funny that the stick up nerd got his nose broken. Saruhiko didn't look at anyone. Yata ground his teeth and stood, only for Kyo to tug him back down. “What are you doing?”

“I'm going to apologize to him.”

“Oh my god why?”

“Cause I punched him.”

“Then celebrate that.”

Yata remembered that Saruhiko made him seem like he was the worst of all his friends. 

Kyo laughed a bit. “I mean, come on. He's weird. Acts all superior. People hate him. It's good that you punched him. Show it off, throw your pencil at him, but don't talk to him. You'll ruin my reputation.”

Yata breathed out. “What the fuck.”

Kyo wadded up a bit of paper and chucked it at Saruhiko. It bounced off his head. Kyo grinned and he bit his lip to stop himself from giggling. Saruhiko shot them a poisonous look, then went back to his PDA. The class snickered.

“Hey, Kyo.”

Kyo smiled and there was no venom. “What's up?”

The teacher walked in, and so did Yata’s other friends. Kyo brightened and high fived them as he passed. Yata sat in his seat, so angry he felt sick.

He ended up staring at Saruhiko a lot. He never looked up.

\---

And at lunch, Yata still was simmering. He watched his friends pull their chairs around Kyo’s desk. He went to get lunch from the cafeteria and thought. He shoved his hands in his pockets and drug his feet to them. “Kyo.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you start a chat thread just to talk shit about me?”

Haru paled. Toji looked justifiably horrified. Kyo didn't even falter. “Where'd you hear that?”

Yata looked up. Saruhiko was looking in his direction, chin in his hand. He still looked bored though. Yata looked down at them. “Does it matter? Yes or no?”

“Yata, of course it matters if someone's lying.”

“Ain't a lie until you say no.”

Saruhiko may have smirked.

“Yata…”

Yata rolled his eyes. “Fine. It was Fushimi, now are you gonna—”

“And you listened to that asshole? You think he's telling the truth?”

“I don't know but if—”

“Then why are we talking about this?”

“Why aren't you answering me!”

“Yata, you're overreacting. Calm down.”

“Fucking give me an answer and I'll calm down!”

Kyo shook his head. “I don't need to answer. Fushumi’s a freak, he's a liar. Why'd you listen to him?”

When Yata heard freak, he thought of his family. He'd heard his friends talk about them like that, because that's what their parents said. And Saruhiko got the same treatment. “Shut up!” He slammed his hands on the desk. “Don't fucking talk like that about him when he's fucking right!” He grabbed the chair that they pulled aside for him and shoved it back to the desk it belonged to and marched over to Fushimi’s desk. He pulled a chair out and sat in it backwards. He grabbed his sandwich out of his pocket, tore the plastic off, and took a violent bite. Half of the turkey fell out the back. “Aw shit. Don't worry, I'll eat it.”

Saruhiko stared. “What are you even doing?”

“I'm eating.”

“Why here?”

“Cause I'd rather be with you then them.”

Saruhiko scowled. “I don't need your pity.”

“I know you don't.” Saruhiko seemed surprised by that. “But, y'know.”

“No I don't know. I don't want you to explain either. Just leave.”

“You want my milk?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue and bent over his PDA.

“Use your words.”

“Drink your own milk. Over there.”

Yata continued eating.

Saruhiko glared at his PDA. “Why?” He asked, his voice softer, defeated.

“I don't like bullies. I don't care whatever you did to get everyone to just gang up on you or beat you up. You don't deserve that.”

He clicked his tongue. “You're just an idiot who doesn't know any better.”

“So do you play games on your phone?”

“It's a PDA.”

“Does that stand for Player Death Arena? Can I play?”

“No, I'm not on a phone, I'm on my Personal Data Assistant.”

“Can you play games on that?”

Saruhiko sighed, complaining under his breath about vengeful spirits. Little odd, but whatever. He was accepted. Yata grinned and ate some of the meat off of Saruhiko's desk. The last thing he said to Yata was “Irony is wasted on you.”


	2. Afternoons Spent On Rooftops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yata gets closer to Saruhiko. Judging by the amount of moments they have, Saruhiko is probably getting closer to Yata too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you for such a great response to the first chapter! Thank you for all the kudos and like 50 thanks for the comments! I wasn't having much inspiration for this when I posted it, but now I'm overflowing with things to write. Thank you all again!
> 
> Also, I forgot to mention, but the theme for this story (as well as origin the title) is Hold Me Down by Halsey.

Saruhiko acted like an angry cat whenever Yata was around, shoulders hunched and glaring at him as he talked, just waiting for Yata do something, to ask a favor of him, to take something in return for the saving that he didn’t ask for. He was terse with his answers, whenever he bothered to turn away from his PDA to answer him.

Yata didn't leave.

\---

For a whole week, he sat with Saruhiko and talked at him.

“For someone so simpleminded, you are remarkably persistent.”

“Hey thanks.”

“Not a compliment.”

“Mother says that it's good to be stubborn. It leads to a strong soul.”

Saruhiko was quiet. Yata could already tell there was a difference in this silence. He wasn't ignoring Yata. He was thinking. “You don't seem like the kind of person to call someone ‘Mother’.”

Yata didn't know what to say. Saruhiko typed on his PDA. “Do you think it's wrong for me to refer to her as Mother. Like it's too distant?”

Saruhiko kept his eyes on his PDA. “I don't know why you worry about inconsequential things. It’s not like you.”

Yata was pretty sure that they had a moment there.

\---

Saruhiko had exactly three moods: condescending, bored, and sneer. That was constant, no matter who he talked too. He didn’t talk to anybody though, really. Saruhiko didn’t seem to enjoy anything. He went to school and left school and that was it. Yata didn’t see him walk home. He was just sort of gone. Once, he was in the arcade, and he followed Yata around while he played games. He was on his PDA the entire time. Yata figured out that he was, in fact, playing a competitive strategy game with more type combinations for attacks than Pokémon. It was way too difficult for him to figure out, but Saruhiko breezed through it. He made money that way, since there was a system to bet and thus, a system perfect for hustling. It was pretty impressive, but Yata had no clue what he spent that money on.

Granted, Yata didn't know a lot of things about Saruhiko.

\---

“Let's eat on the roof.”

“Why would I do a thing like that?”

“I'm tired of lookin’ outside and seeing the sun. I wanna feel the sun.”

Saruhiko looked up at him and gave him A Look. It warranted the capitalization because Yata couldn't even think of how to interpret it. Usually, he had some kind of idea, and sure he might've been wrong, but an idea still counted. Saruhiko looked down at his PDA. “You'd burn up if you did that.”

Yata grabbed Saruhiko's desk and shook it. “Come oooooonnnn.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue and stood up. “Fine. But don't complain to me when you're cold.”

“Look at that sun. It's so warm out.”

The sun lied. It was cold. “Amazingly,” Saruhiko droned, “It is cold in October.”

“Shut up,” Yata groaned. He didn't complain though. Saruhiko told him not to. Yata couldn't quite tell what his barriers were, but he didn't want to overstep them and make him seriously uncomfortable. Not when he went along with him as often as he did.

Saruhiko tugged at the collar of his shirt and sat down against the chainlink fence. Yata settled next to him, putting their lunches in between them. Cold air blew up his shirt. Great.

At the very least, Saruhiko didn't look comfortable either. He kept shifting and breathing too deeply. Saruhiko looked pale under florescent lights, but in the sun he looked like paper. The bags under his eyes were bright purple and they made his eyes look sunken in, all skull like. The tips of his fingers were already red in the cold. Saruhiko looked over at him and his cheeks flushed pink. It would've been cute if Saruhiko didn't look like a cat ready to claw. “What?” he snapped. 

Yata wasn't perturbed, didn't even hesitate to tell Saruhiko the truth. “Just not used to seeing you outside. You look different.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue and took an indigent bite of his sandwich. “It's the same face. And we met outside.”

“Wasn't looking at your face.” Yata reached for his own sandwich, stacked high with Saruhiko's unwanted vegetables. “You okay though?”

“I just don't like being outside.”

“Oh.”

“Don't make that face,” Saruhiko muttered. He was looking at Yata out of the corner of his eye. “I'll tolerate it for you.”

Yata’s face burst bright pink.

“Don't read anything into it.” 

Too late, they were having another moment.

They ate together, two boys with pink faces, shivering next to each other on the roof. “So why don't you like the outside?”

“We aren't having that much of a moment.”

\---

Saruhiko just sat on the roof and waited for Yata to come up there. Yata didn't even need to ask a second time. He'd get his sandwich and Saruhiko would be there already. That was probably how Saruhiko showed being considerate, by not showing it at all, but still doing something nice for him.

\---

On an amazingly warm day, with the sun shining in a cloudless sky, Saruhiko stood and stared out over the schoolyard, fingers clenched in the links. Yata tossed his sandwich and milk next to Saruhiko's and stood next to him. “Nice view, isn't it?”

Saruhiko hummed. Yata had no clue what that meant.

Yata kept talking. That's what he did when he didn't understand. “The world looks so big from up here, it just goes on.”

“Perspective.” Saruhiko looked over at Yata. “It looks small to me.”

“Makes sense. You feel tall like this.”

Saruhiko's shoulders fell. Not in a bad way, Yata realized. Saruhiko relaxed. 

Wow. 

Saruhiko turned away from the view and slid down to the ground. Yata settled next to him. He opened up Saruhiko's juice and slid his milk over to take its place. Saruhiko took the milk and sipped it.

“You gotta tell me what meal you get that means you get juice.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue.

“All they ever give me is milk…”

“Maybe they're sending you a message. Maybe you need the extra height.”

“I'm still growing!” Out of the corner of his eye, he could swear Saruhiko was smiling. When he looked over at him though, it was gone, just flat. No positive emotions for Saruhiko.

Still, he thought that Saruhiko seemed happy with him.

\---

Yata was washing the dishes with his father. They did that together, because it was easier to talk to him like that. He was nice enough, sure, but Yata had bad luck with father figures. It was easier to talk if he had dishes in his hands to distract him. “Misaki, tell me about your friends.”

“Fushimi's cool.”

“Fushimi? That's a new one.”

Yata splashed his hands in the sink, scrubbing the dish harder than necessary. “Yeah, he's also the only one.”

“What happened to the others?”

“They're dicks.”

“I see.”

He sometimes wished that they didn't react to swears like it was casual. That’s what everyone did around him. It was weird. “Fushimi's a dick too. But he's a nice one, you know?”

“No, I do not know.”

“Oh.”

“Would you tell me, our sunshine?”

Yata had no reason not to. But every fact he knew about Saruhiko in his head died in his mouth and he could barely voice it. Maybe he knew too many little things, so he couldn't sum up Saruhiko. He held the dish under the water and thought. “Fushimi's…like…he seems distant, and that he doesn't like people…because it's true. But he doesn't push me away anymore, and he goes along with me. He listens to me.”

Deep down, Saruhiko is good.

“I would like to meet this Fushimi someday.”

Yata couldn't see Saruhiko around any adult and have it end well. “Maybe someday.”

\---

It had been a dry October and November, so since they had started eating eating on the roof, it hadn't done more than spit a couple of times in the afternoon. Yata wondered, as he watched the storm make tracks on window, if Saruhiko would be waiting on the roof despite the rain.

Guess what?

He fucking did.

“I just assumed that you'd be enough of an idiot and eat on the roof.”

“You're the fucking idiot here!” Yata yelled, dragging Saruhiko's dripping wet ass through the halls. “You're leaving puddles.”

Saruhiko twisted his wrist out of Yata's grip and ducked into the bathroom. In less than a minute, he was out again, completely dry, but his nose was pink still, so he had to be cold. “Let's go eat,” Saruhiko muttered, walking away.

Yata jogged up to him until they were in step. “How'd you do that?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “Where are we supposed to eat now?”

“In the classroom, like how we used to.”

Saruhiko was silent. An angry silence, he figured. As angry as Saruhiko could be in his lazy, catlike way.

“Man, it'll be crowded. I've gotten used to the silence.”

“You never stop talking.”

“You know what I mean, everyone else's silence.”

They sat down at Saruhiko’s desk and yes, there was a lot of chatter. Yata's former friends were some of it, in their corner. Yata stared and felt lonely as they laughed.

“Yata.”

A spark flew up his back and he turned towards Saruhiko as he pushed his vegetables towards him. Saruhiko raised his eyebrow. “Dude, is that the first time you've said my name?”

Saruhiko’s face went flat and bored again. “Probably. It's not like we introduced each other.”

Yata frowned. They didn't. Yata figured out Saruhiko's name later, and Saruhiko…was smart. “Do you wanna know—”

“Yata.”

“Okay, I get it…” Yata took the vegetables. “Hey, do you wanna come over?”

Saruhiko looked over at him.

“To my house?”

On the other end of the classroom, Kyo snorted and laughed at something Toji said.

“Why?”

“We're friends right?”

Saruhiko blinked at him.

“And we've been friends for almost three months now. So. Meet my folks?”

Saruhiko stared. 

“Please?”

He looked away. “I can't.”

“What does that mean?”

He clicked his tongue and glared out the window. “What do you think it means?”

Yata didn't know what he expected. “Can I meet your parents?”

Saruhiko shook his head.

“Do you talk about me to them?”

“Never would, for multiple reasons. The first being that I do not live with them.”

“…Oh.”

“The second being that my…” He clicked his tongue. “I'd prefer if you didn't come in contact with them.”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed.”

“So do you live alone?”

“Yes.”

“That's…cool. That's so cool, Fushimi!”

Saruhiko looked back at Yata. “Hmmm…I'll take that with a grain of salt. You've proven yourself an over exaggerating idiot time and time again.” He drank Yata's milk, and Yata thought he might've seen a small smile. It was hard to tell. Any smiles he shared were smug. Even after this long, he still had only three emotions.

\---

Warmth was back. It was almost December and it warm enough that Yata felt uncomfortable in his jacket. It was the most beautiful, wonderful day of his life. Yata was sunning himself instead of eating, using his jacket as a pillow. Saruhiko was still in full uniform, because he was weird like that. And that was fine. 

Saruhiko’s complaining however, was another matter. “I hate this. It's too warm. Do you know when it's going to get cloudy again?”

“If I get a say in it, we'd stay like this forever! Fuck winter!”

“Why we?”

“Why wouldn't it be we?”

“I'd like it if you asked me before deciding our hypothetical future.” Saruhiko huffed and Yata heard the fence clink as he let his head fall against it. “I hate the sun.”

“You hate the outdoors,” Yata retorted.

Yata didn't mean anything by it. It was just the truth. Saruhiko said it to him. But Saruhiko was oddly quiet. “I feel like I will lose my form outside. There's…too much, I suppose. Too open. Too many places I could be. The only good outside is alleyways. They're narrow, and there's nowhere to go. Indoors too. But this…this sunlight…is unbearable.”

Yata opened his eyes. All he could see above him was blue, stretching forever. “Cloud cover ain't a ceiling.”

“But it's something.”

“So…”

“You just happen to be good company.”

He flushed. “Fuck yeah, I am,” he declared, covering up all that fluffy embarrassment in his chest with bravado. Yata scratched a spot on the roof, bringing up a loose layer of dust. “Thanks.”

Saruhiko hummed. “So are you just going to burn up here?”

“I don't burn. I tan. Not enough sun up here for that anyway.”

“Well you're going to get sick of you don't eat.”

“That's not how it works.”

“Well you make me sick when you don't eat.” Saruhiko nudged a bottle against his hands. “Come on.”

Yata didn't look at the bottle before he brought it up to his lips and drank.

Yata had never made a worse mistake in his life. Because Saruhiko was a dick. And dicks thought things like “let's give Yata milk instead of juice and see what happens.”

What happened: Yata sat up suddenly, spitting out the milk in front of him. He spat a couple of times on the cement, groaning after each spit. He scrubbed his tongue with his finger, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. It stuck to his tongue like powder. It was warm too and he felt like it was curdling on his tongue.

And then Saruhiko started laughing.

Yata froze and stared. Saruhiko didn't laugh. In any capacity. He didn't giggle, didn't chuckle, didn't show any obvious positive emotion. How could Yata not stare and take everything in? Saruhiko's shoulders were shaking, and he curled in on himself. He covered his mouth to hide his laughing smile. But he couldn't muffle his voice, the laugh itself. It was a bit higher than Yata could ever expect, a little more manic and scratchy, but he couldn't say that this wasn't the most honest and unguarded he saw Saruhiko. It wasn't a surprise that it was so blatantly contradictory to the entire essence of Saruhiko.

That was why Yata couldn't help but stare as Saruhiko laughed. In the back of his head, he wondered if Saruhiko had gotten sunsick in winter.

He stopped, lowering his hand and opening his eyes. They were bright and attentive, tears of laughter gathered at the corners. His smile was mocking, but Yata was caught on his eyes. “Oh, Yata, you do really hate milk, don't you? I never expected such a violent reaction. Oh, but it is you, isn't it?”

There were probably a dozen things he could've snapped back to save face, but he was caught up in Saruhiko.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, face falling back into flat, normal, what he was used to. “And now you're back to being unamusing.”

Saruhiko had three emotions: condescending, bored, and sneer.

But sometimes, he had happier side that glistened like the sun shining through an iceberg, melting it until it cracked and shine like a twisted smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it incredibly out of character for Saruhiko to honestly laugh yeah, maybe, but he's a kid and it's cute and Yata's hilarious tear the image of Saruhiko laughing from my cold dead hands.


	3. Summer Dreams in Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahaha this is so late getting out very sorry. Anyway, this chapter is funny to me for a lot of reasons. The first being I was writing this and then decided to look up when Japanese schools let out. Google might not be the most reliable, but it said winter so I took the scenes I had already written about summer vacation and made them kinda symbolic? I made them something to cover my ass is the point here.
> 
> The second is that this was supposed to cover the rest of their middle school life. It ended up being less than a month. I'm earning that slow build tag.

Yata's old friends yelled “Misaki” across the hall. Yata turned around and threw curses over his shoulder. He would've ran after them, punched them, but Saruhiko held his shoulder.

“They're just calling you a girl's name. It's not worth getting wound up by grade school bullying.”

Yata spun towards Saruhiko. “It's not a girl's name!”

Saruhiko stopped. He looked at him, his mouth flat but his eyes alive. Oh no. “Is that your actual name?”

“Shut up!”

Saruhiko grinned. It was about as friendly as a feral cat. “Your real name is Misaki?”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Mi. Sa. Ki.”

Yata shoved Saruhiko into the lockers. Saruhiko laughed. It was not nearly as beautiful as the time on the roof, even though it came out of Yata's suffering. This laugh was short and clipped. The roof was out of character for him, Yata had accepted. But this fit. “Fine. What's your name?”

Saruhiko still had a bit of a smirk on his face. “My name?”

“Yeah. We're exchanging first names now. Is yours embarrassing too?”

“Saruhiko.”

“Monkey? You're a fucking monkey!”

“Ah yes. I have never heard that comparison before. Truly, your wit cuts me to the bone.”

“Shut up.”

“I'm putting you in the bully box.”

\---

Yata liked calling Saruhiko his name. He could always just call him a monkey as an insult. It was able to be shortened too. Saru. Fushimi didn't shrink. 

Unfortunately, Saruhiko loved his first name. “It's lovely. It's easy to stretch out syllable by syllable. Each syllable sounds different too, and I can put emphasis on whatever I like. Yata pales in comparison, Misaki.”

Dick.

\---

“What do you do in the summer?” Saruhiko asked.

“I do whatever. It's nice at home. We actually have air conditioning. But it's usually so crowded and people keep asking me if I'm comfortable I just leave sometimes. Bike places. I need a new bike…”

“Sports freak.”

“I bet you just stay inside all the time.”

“Not true. I get ice cream and soda.”

“How are you alive?”

“Obviously by not being alive.”

Yata scoffed and stared at the breath of air that frosted in front of him. “I'd like to hang out with you in the summer. Skipping school and heading to the arcade when school’s in session. I talked about it a lot with my old friends last year. They never did.”

“The arcade is boring.”

“That's because you were just on your PDA the entire time we were there. Get some coins and I'll show you what fun is.”

Saruhiko let out a sharp breath through his nose.

“Don't laugh at me.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“I can see your laughter. Dick.”

“Do you even know what you implied?”

“What did I imply?”

Saruhiko turned to his phone, his face flat. Too flat.

“Saruhiko…”

“It sounded sexual.”

All the blood rushed to his face. Apparently blood controlled motor functions as well, because when Yata raised his hands to wave Saruhiko's words away, he flailed his hands about. “T-t-that's not what I meant and you know it!”

“It's painfully obvious now.”

“Shut up!”

“Alright.”

Yata pushed his shoulders up to his ears and huffed.

“At least you didn't tell me to bring some bills. Though I doubt you'd do anything that would warrant me slipping them down—”

Yata's face was so hot that it steamed the air around him. “Don't you dare finish!”

“You're cruel.”

\---

Christmas was coming up and with it, the last day of school. The end of a year. Yata would go into a new grade, new classroom, new teacher.

“Second year was hard for me, cause I had to start thinking about high school,” his neighbor Mimi said. She was in high school, and she seemed to know a lot. She helped him with his homework and answered questions that he'd stammer out.

“But…isn't third year…”

“That's when the exams are, but you've gotta plan before that.”

Yata didn't want to think of the new year. He liked this one. He sighed and sprawled across his homework, hoping they'd go away like this, if he didn't look at them long enough, the world would open up and swallow it away.

\---

There was ice cream in the cafeteria. They were supposed to get snow that afternoon.

“I've got vanilla and strawberry. Whichya want?”

“Strawberry.”

Yata handed it over. Yata plopped down next to Saruhiko and opened his ice cream, pushing the wooden spoon into the stiff cream. His hand was already going numb. “I wouldn't think you'd like strawberry.”

“It's sweet, what’s not to like?”

“Aren't fruits close to vegetables?”

“Fruits taste like something other than green. Besides, this is artificially flavored. It's not the same at all.”

“Green is a color, not a taste. All veggies taste different anyway.”

“No they don't.”

“You're telling me that carrots taste like broccoli?”

Saruhiko shivered and grimaced, like he was forced to imagine the taste just because Yata brought it up. “Yes.”

Yata elbowed him.

Saruhiko elbowed him back.

“I'm gonna see if I can make any ‘green’ flavored mochi and show you how good it’ll be.”

“I have a feeling that you'd mess it up horribly.”

“Not true. My folks love my cooking. Can't get the mochi round, but it's still good.”

Saruhiko hummed.

“Listen, there's nothing like cooking down on a summer day like green tea mochi.”

“I'll take your word for it. Because I'm not going to eat it.”

“Dick. I'll show you.” He crunched on the wood spoon and a snowflake fell on his nose.

\---

That weekend, he made mochi. His adopted brother, Shinji, watched him. It was nice. They had been getting more distant. He was younger than Mimi, but he seemed more cynical. He assumed it was because Shinji was just starting high school. “Isn't it too cold for that?” Shinji asked. It sounded like he was accusing him. 

“Maybe I'm preparing for summer.”

“That's months away. Make something warm.”

“Shinji,” their mother warned from the other room. Shinji grimaced and Yata flushed.

“I mean, I don't wanna think about winter.”

“Why not? Honest question,” Shinji added hastily, probably more for their eavesdropping mother than for Yata.

Yata didn't want Saruhiko to leave. And after winter, everything changed. Their friendship felt so young, and Yata knew how bored Saruhiko was with school. If it was summer, there wouldn't be anything to worry about. There were more things to do in the summer, and after all that fun they could just fall back into school and ride on the high of everything they did.

But what could they do in winter that would last? What did they have to look forward to?

“I just don't wanna grow up.”

“Yeah, I've gottcha. You've got it easy though.”

“Middle school’s rough.”

“Yeah, but you've got it all planned out. You don't have to do anything.”

Yata didn't know what he was talking about. The world felt heavy on his shoulders.

\---

It was the last week of school. No one had shoveled the roof, and Saruhiko was firmly against wading through the snow. Yata didn’t want to be in the classroom. They sat on the steps.

“I don't like this as much,” Yata said.

“Well I do.” Saruhiko didn't sound that ecstatic though. Not that he ever did. But he seemed more disgruntled than normal.

“It's boring.”

“The roof doesn't do anything either.” Saruhiko tossed his sandwich wrapper over the railing.

Yata watched it fall and grinned. “That actually looks fun.”

“Really.”

“Yeah! Come on, until the bell rings!” Yata dashed down the stairs until he was across from Saruhiko. He grinned and gestured for Saruhiko to throw something. Saruhiko balled up page in his notebook and tossed it at Yata in a halfhearted underhand throw. “Weak.”

“We can't all be sport freaks.” Yata chucked the paper ball at Saruhiko. It bounced off his nose and fell. “What was that?”

“A throw.”

“Were you aiming for my face?”

“You're more likely to catch it that way.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “This angle is inconvenient for me.”

“Fine.” Yata jogged down the stairs, directly under Saruhiko. “Here.”

Saruhiko sighed and dropped another wadded up ball down to Yata. Yata easily caught it and threw it back up. It soared high, spinning in front of Saruhiko's glasses before it started to fall again, into Saruhiko's waiting palms. “Impressive,” he said, and opened his hands so the ball fell again.

“Before I came here, I did baseball. It wasn't fun here.”

“You do seem like the person to enjoy elementary school sports.”

“What does that mean?”

“You seem to enjoy running around and hitting things with no rules.”

“I don't think you were ever a kid, Saru.”

“I wasn't, obviously. I was born an adult.”

Yata chucked the ball harder and Saruhiko took a quick step back before it hit him. Saruhiko’s shirt was untucked and it swung as he jerked back. It was really obvious from down below how thin he was, how his clothes just hung loosely. He kneeled down and made a third ball. “You aren't proving me wrong.”

“Just drop the ball you monkey.” Saruhiko dropped the ball into Yata's waiting hands. This one had writing on it, and when Yata unwrapped it, he recognized their homework for today. “Hey, don't you need this?”

“Why would I need that?”

“It's due today.”

“So? Throw it back.” Yata added new wrinkles to the crumpled ball and tossed it back up. Saruhiko caught it and clicked his tongue. Yata watched his jaw move from below. “I don't even know why I did it.”

Saruhiko dropped, Yata grabbed. “It was stupid hard, but—”

“Actually, Misaki, it wasn't. It was easy. There was no challenge. I wasted my energy on this.”

Yata threw, Saruhiko caught. “You sound like you don’t like school.”

“I don’t. There is nothing here.” With one hand, he held the ball and the other gripped the handrail. “I’m not coming back next year. There’s no reason to.”

Saruhiko threw the ball down to Yata and it bounced off his hand and fell down the stairwell.

\---

Four days before school ended and Yata felt sick. The homework that he got done the night before was pathetic, he knew. He just couldn’t bring himself to do anything, to think, because now he knew what next year would bring and he hated it. He sat on the roof with Saruhiko and couldn’t find the words. At Yata’s elbow, Saruhiko played the game on his PDA, glancing over at Yata from time to time. He could tell because Saruhiko’s fingers would slow.

Yata finally spoke up. “Can I have your cell number?”

“I don’t have a cell phone.”

“So, you can’t call on that thing?”

“No.”

“How about texting?”

“I don't have a provider, so the function of phones in general are not a thing.”

“Have you thought about getting one?”

“No.”

Yata sighed. “Okay.”

Saruhiko stopped typing.

\---

Yata knocked on Mimi’s door and she was the one to answer it. “What’s wrong, our sunshine?”

Yata flushed. That nickname everyone called him sounded nice coming out of her mouth. She was also wearing an oversized sweater and leggings and it was pretty cute. “H-hey…I’ve…got a question.”

“What is it?”

“It’s about friends…can…is it hard to stay friends with someone when they’re not in school anymore? Like…when you went to high school…did you stay friends with the middle school friends?”

She frowned. “I mean, we can try, Misaki. But sometimes people drift away. That’s just how it is.”

Saruhiko never seemed one to follow how things were, but if Yata looked at him from the side, he’d fade away. That should’ve just been a joke on how skinny Saruhiko was, but _fuck_ Yata was scared.

\---

Three days before school ended, and Yata waited outside the principal’s office for Saruhiko. He heard the muffled conversation, trying to convince Saruhiko to continue his education. Saruhiko didn't budge.

“We're worried about you, you know.”

“Mmm…”

“We looked up the address, and the area isn't right for a boy your age.”

“Ah…”

“Between that and your friendships, we're concerned—Mr. Fushimi!”

Saruhiko came out of the office and slammed it shut, so the windows rattled. He clicked his tongue and marched out, Yata jogging behind him. He was grimacing, muttering about how it wasn't anyone's business and how adults should know better than to listen to rumors.

At the gate, Saruhiko turned to leave and Yata found his voice. “I'd appreciate it, y’know, if you stayed.”

Saruhiko stopped, clicked his tongue, and rubbed the back of his head. “I know.”

\---

Yata washed dishes with his adopted brother. Shinji didn't seem to want to talk. So they listened to their father talk in the other room.

Not that Yata could really hear anything. He was talking absurdly formally to his brother. That was all he could tell. Shinji still would not tolerate any sound, other than ambience of their dishwashing. Yata handled the dishes delicately, so they didn’t clink. 

Eventually, their father returned. “Do either of you have plans in December?”

“I was just planning on hanging with friends,” Shinji said, the looked at Yata. “Did you set up anything with…Fushimi? Or whatever.”

Yata shook his head. It'd probably be nice to see Saruhiko's home, see how he lived without parents, see how it felt when it was by choice. But other than that one time at the arcade, Saruhiko didn't exist outside of school (and that one time didn't really count when he was just humoring Yata and the time spent together didn't matter).

“I’m glad. Shinji, please tell your friends that you won’t be available.”

“Again?” Shinji groaned.

“We have someplace to be. We’ll pack the car once classes end, and then tomorrow we’ll be on the road.”

“Do I have to go?” Shinji asked. “Bring Mimi or someone else. They're more excited about these things.”

“Shinji, that is exactly why you need to come. Sharing of experiences and meeting others is integral for our goal. Besides, this is purely for the primary family.” He turned to Yata and smiled. “And that includes you, our sunshine.”

Yata knew that occasionally the family and other members of their apartment would go on trips, that these were a big deal, and that they were unrelated to any of their jobs. Yata had never been invited, but the thrill of sleeping over at one of their neighbors quelled any anxiety that he had about his family returning. This was the first time he was ever invited. “Really?”

Yata’s father smiled and tosseled Yata’s hair. “Yes really. Look forward to it, Misaki.”

“Oh yeah! I’m so ready! Man, where are we going? No wait, don’t tell me. It’d be better to see it firsthand.”

Yata’s father laughed and squeezed his shoulder. “Your enthusiasm is contagious. I haven’t been this excited for a trip in a long while.” He glanced over at Shinji, who had his arms crossed. “Maybe you should try to cheer up Shinji too.”

“Well, I’ll try.” Yata grinned.

“Now, I know that you’ve only got a couple of days left, but try not to get into any fights. A lot of people want to meet you, and we want you looking your best.”

Yata stared. “People want to meet me?”

“Yes.”

“Did you…talk about me, or something?”

“Of course, Misaki.”

Yata swallowed. “Huh.” That didn’t feel like the right thing to say, but he didn’t know how else to respond. He nodded at his father, keeping his back straight as until his father left.

As soon as he left the room, Shinji growled a little bit, gripping his arms. “Why the fuck would he look forward to it—” Shinji untensed and sighed. “Forget it.” 

Yata nudged Shinji. “What's up?”

“Nah, I'm just thinking. Forget it.”

“Hey, Shinji—”

But Shinji started to walk away.

\---

Before the second to last day of school started, some upperclassmen threw a bottle of juice at Yata and the cap popped up and soaked the side of his face. It stained his white shirt purple and made his hair stick to his cheek. Yata wanted to fight. He liked fighting, letting people know that he couldn’t be shit on like that. He thought of his father. He shoved his hands in his pockets and ignored the laughter beating into his back. 

He felt lower than he had ever felt, even when he heard his birth siblings crying in the night when his mom and stepdad left. This wasn’t his week at all.

“Misaki?” Saruhiko asked as Yata brushed past him and walked into the school. Yata expected teasing, but Saruhiko's footsteps were quick behind him. “Misaki, what happened?” 

Yata kicked open the bathroom door. Really, he just didn't want to take his hands out of his pockets. The violence helped though. He washed the stick out of his hair, glancing up at Saruhiko hovering at his shoulder. He looked so worried and Yata laughed. “Shit, Saru, it's not like I haven't been bullied before. We haven't.” Yata had never been popular, but with his old group, he was safe. At least in school. He could bike fast enough to get out of any fights he couldn't win, and punch hard enough to not be an easy target if anyone tried anything out of school. Since he gave a hardy “fuck you” to his original trio and settled in with Saruhiko, he had gotten a bit more verbal attention in school. Yells in the hallway, more rumors, nothing that really mattered.

And as far as he was concerned, some juice throwing upperclassman desperate for one last hurrah didn't matter either. He told Saruhiko as much, and he just scowled. “I thought you liked getting into fights.”

He didn’t know how to explain his family to Saruhiko, the trip, everything it meant. “Folks want a lot of pictures, so no bruises.” Yata ruffled his hair. “Also, I've got a trip coming up or something over the break. I'm supposed to look my best or something.”

Yata could tell that Saruhiko wasn't listening, staring at the wall with glazed over his eyes. But his nails were digging into his arm, so he could tell that he wasn't going to let it go.

Yata sighed and elbowed Saruhiko, jolting him into looking down at Yata. “Hey. Don't think about it. I’ll get over it, kick someone later, whatever. Let's just get to class.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “Wait.”

“Wha—” Yata started and then was cut off by Saruhiko's hand in his hair, holding a stiff lock between his fingers. He rubbed the strand until it started to crack apart. Saruhiko seemed taller like this, close and staring. Yata's cheeks burned.

Saruhiko pushed his fingernail into the strand and let his hand fall. He stared at the hair as it rubbed against Yata's cheeks and then looked into his eyes. “You missed a spot.” He swallowed. “Misaki.”

\---

The last day of school, a bruised and bloodshot upperclassman apologized to him. “Eh? For what?”

“You know what.”

Yata had no clue who he was or what he was talking about. He gave the guy a vague shrug.

“I'm sorry for throwing the bottle at you.”

Oooohhhh.

He straightened his back, and Yata didn't realize that he had no confidence until he gained some. “So you tell that Fushimi—”

“I'm behind you.”

The upperclassman squealed and jumped to the side, staring at Saruhiko. Yata stared too because Saruhiko was grinning a knife slash, his eyes wide. Yata couldn't believe how well it fit his face. Like it belonged there, belonged on such an apathetic boy. The upperclassman _ran_ from Saruhiko, sprinted into the school. The smile fell off of Saruhiko face and he walked to Yata's side.

“What did you do?”

“Hmm?”

“What did you dooooo?”

“It's nothing to worry about, Misaki.”

“Yes it is. You're so skinny. Fight with that PDA game not with your fists.”

He seemed surprised, then blinked and fell back into smugness. “Aw, Misaki, are you worried about me?”

“Yeah, you monkey, I am.”

The surprise stayed on Saruhiko's face. He clicked his tongue and turned his face away. “You shouldn't.”

Yata sighed and rubbed his head. “You didn't have to do that.”

“Well I did. He shouldn't have done that to you.”

“Bullies gonna bully. I’d’ve beat him up last week.”

“He shouldn't though,” Saruhiko repeated, voice a hiss.

“So you beat him up?”

“Well you weren’t going to.”

Yata laughed. “So what, you'll just beat everyone up for me?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue.

Yata clicked his tongue back, as mocking as he could make that quick noise. “Well, next year,” he swallowed, “next year you won't be here, so I'll take care of myself.”

Saruhiko started, puffing out a breath of air. They didn't really talk about it. Even after Saruhiko's deceleration that he didn't want to come back, he still brought up summer. The frozen air between them felt solid.

Yata sighed and punched his shoulder. “Come on. We're gonna be late.”

Saruhiko trailed behind him.

\---

“Let's skip the assembly,” Saruhiko said.

“Where would we go?”

“The roof.”

“Heard the teachers were gonna lock it. Something about a safety hazard. The fence broke or something. How does a fence break? It’s metal.”

“I don’t know why you’d think I’d know. And maybe you’ll find out.”

“Door’s locked, idiot. Can’t.”

“You act like I can't pick locks.”

Fair point. Lock picking was a very Saruhiko thing. Yata followed Saruhiko up the stairs, leaned against the wall and watched Saruhiko jiggle the lock open, just letting himself space out while time passed, letting Saruhiko get all whispy and fuzzy and glowy as his eyes unfocused.

“Done,” Saruhiko said, and Yata blinked rapidly. Saruhiko opened the door and the two of them stepped out onto the roof, fresh snow crunching under their shoes. Sure enough, there was a hole in the fence, links torn and curved and blackened. Tape was crisscrossed over the gap.

Saruhiko sat down a couple meters down from the hole. Yata plopped down next to him. “Our butts are gonna be soaked.”

“I realize.”

Yata glanced past Saruhiko at the hole. “That's so lazy. Like, at least put lumber in front of it or something.”

“The school is very lazy. They really pretend they care, but they just do the minimum.” Saruhiko rubbed his neck. “And that breeds the most disgusting students.” He looked at Yata. “Misaki, you are the only worthwhile thing here.” He passed Yata a slip of paper. Yata unfolded it and stared at the numbers. “Either keep that or throw it out. I don't care.”

Yata looked over at him. “Did you…get a phone?”

“No, I want you to call some random person.” The sarcasm felt forced, so Yata just grinned widely and pulled out his phone. Saruhiko watched him put the number in, then spoke again. “Don't put too much thought into…never mind.” Saruhiko tugged at the collar of his shirt, turning away. But Yata already saw his red face.

Below them, kids cheered at the end of the year. “See you in March?” Yata tried.

Saruhiko tilted his head back against the fence, his eyes closed. The sun shone on his face, making him pale, his hair forcing shadows on his face. His lips twitched into a small smile and he turned to look at Yata. “Yeah. I'll see you then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be more heavily focused on supernatural events! Get hype eventhoughihavenocluewhati'mdoingohmygod.


	4. Worst Road Trips Have Happened, Probably

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this being so late! I had no clue what to do. And then I had a clue, and things happened I had no control over. Saruhiko wasn't supposed to have a big role and then Yata kept texting him??? Writing's weird, man, I have no control over it I swear.
> 
> Just so you know, there's kinda horror elements? It's more Silent Hill surreal put-your-hand-in-a-hole-in-a-wall-in-this-room-of-butterflies kind of horror, but it's something you should know about!
> 
> Also: Actual canon characters poke their heads in!

Yata sent a text to Saruhiko later that night. His brain was still buzzing even though it was nearing midnight. Between the high of another school year ending, Saruhiko, and the packing for the road trip, he was still full of energy.

**Yata (23:21):**  
**sup monkey guess who dis is**

**Stupid Monkey (23:22):**  
**oh my god go to sleep misaki**

This was gonna be great.

\---

The four of them piled into a car and Yata watched as the city blurred away from them. “Where are we going anyway?” Yata asked.

Yata's father hummed. “It is nowhere special. We’ll end up in a quaint park.” 

“Can't we meet in a hotel?” Shinji asked, looking up from his phone. “It'd be like a convention.”

“We aren't an anime con, Shinji.”

“What's the difference?” Shinju muttered.

“Umm…” Yata looked back and forth at each family member.

“Don't worry about it, Misaki.”

“It's basically a con,” Shinji provided.

“Shinji.” Yata's mother turned around in her seat. “Let me explain it simply for you, Misaki. We are part of a group of people. We share a common goal. There's a lot of us all throughout the country, so occasionally we meet up to share ideals.”

It sounded a lot like an anime convention, really.

\---

**Yata: (9:30)**  
**wat shld i do if my rents mght b weird congoers?**

**Stupid Monkey (9:32):**  
**What?**  
**Stupid Monkey (9:33):**  
**How does that make sense?**

**Yata (9:34):**  
**i dunno**  
**Yata (9:34):**  
**it jst does**

**Stupid Monkey (9:35):**  
**No it doesn't Misaki it really doesn't**

**Yata (9:36):**  
**i really dont know anything about my family**

**Stupid Monkey (9:38):**  
**That seems like a stupid thing to think about.**  
**Stupid Monkey (9:38):**  
**And to fix your spelling over.**  
**Stupid Monkey (9:39):**  
**I liked your other style better. It sounded like you.**

**Yata (9:40):**  
**I'm being serious**

**Stupid Monkey (9:40):**  
**Ugh**  
**Stupid Monkey (9:40):**  
**Parents don’t matter.**  
**Stupid Monkey (9:41):**  
**Parents gonna parent as you’d say.**  
**Stupid Monkey (9:41):**  
**Or you could just ask???**  
**Stupid Monkey (9:42):**  
**Don’t come to me for advice**  
**Stupid Monkey (9:42):**  
**I don’t have parents, remember**

\---

Yata didn’t feel like he could do much, but he could at least try.

\---

They booked one motel room for all four of them. It was small and cramped with the two beds and barely enough to walk between the beds and the wall. Shinji said he’d rather get the floor than the bed because Shinji would kick Yata off the bed and get yelled at and he’d rather get stepped on than lectured. The television played only static. Yata was so excited. Shinji was just nodding his head as Yata blabbered on and on about how much fun he was having (y’know, except for the fact that the motel seemed to breathe and move on its foundations from time to time, but that happened at school too).

He did change the conversation eventually though:

“So why has mom been in the bathroom for an hour?”

Shinji grimaced. “She’s…it’s a thing.”

“A thing?”

“A thing,” Shinji repeated. “It’s a thing we do.”

“I don’t do it.”

Shinji stopped typing on his phone, then sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “Well yeah, of course you don’t.”

“So explain it to me. Come on.”

“No it's stupid.” Shinji curled in on his phone.

Yata started pleading and rapidly poking his shoulder. 

Shinji lasted for a surprising thirty seconds before he slapped at Yata’s hands. “Okay, oh my God, shut up.”

Yata grinned.

“It's stupid, y’know.”

“I live for stupid,” Yata said, thinking of Saruhiko.

“It's like a protection charm, only not.”

And that made sense? “So…it's just nothing.”

“No, see, it's stupid.” Shinji rubbed his head. “Like, it does protect, but at the same time, it lets them know you're there.”

“Who's them?”

“ _Them._ ”

“What are the two of you talking about?” Yata's mother asked, coming out of the bathroom. Her hair was wet and she smelled like roses, Yata thought. Then she smelled like strawberries the next moment, and as she sat down on the bed, it was vanilla.

“Yata asked what you were doing and I told him.”

“Did—”

“No, of course not.”

“Alright. It's your turn then. You've been skimping recently.”

“That's because it doesn't fucking do anything,” he muttered, pushing himself up and marching to the bathroom.

“So why don't I do this thing?” Yata asked, crossing his legs so his knee bumped against her. “Like, it seems cool.”

She hesitated. Yata had never really seen her hesitate before. She always seemed sure of herself. “It is an odd procedure. Are you sure?”

Well, now Yata wasn't. “I mean, what do you do?”

“It's an application of incense, herbs…”

“Oh, that's it? You made me think it was like, needles or something like that. Let's do it!”

“Misaki,” his mother started. Yata gave her a look that Saruhiko described as an earnest dog, and said that he expected Yata to grow a tail and start wagging it. It had its intended effect because she sighed. “I won't go through the whole process. I'll just give you a taste. Don't be disappointed.”

Yata didn't really expect the experience to be exciting, he just wanted to be included.

Yata's mother took a large locket out of her bag, the locket itself as wide as his palm, the chain as thick as his fingers. When placed in his hands though, it was oddly light, like it was made of aluminum. “Put that on,” she commanded, and Yata did, the weight causing his shoulders to hunch. “We usually do this last, but considering it’s your first time, I'd rather be safe.”

“Do you wear this?”

“When I'm concerned,” she showed Yata her own locket, one that was a reasonable size. “Otherwise, I wear this.”

“What's there to be concerned about?”

She hummed and pulled out a bag of dried herbs that looked like potpourri. She crunched it up and asked for Yata to open the locket, which he did and held it out for her. She sprinkled the assortment into the curves of the locket, fully covering the bottom. She spread it flat with her finger, then put a bright red glass bead in the center. “Now close it and flip the latch to lock it.”

Yata did and the air seemed to solidify around him, becoming heavier, more grounded. The scent was still heavy in his nose. 

“That is the protection. Wear it as you sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Now for the perfume, incense, whatever you'd call it.” She pulled a generic brand shampoo bottle, but whatever was in there wasn't generic. When she popped the top and held it out to Yata for him to smell, it just smelled like the plastic of the bottle. “It smells different depending on who wears it.”

“How's that work?”

“The scent is said to resonate with the soul.”

That didn't sound real. He'd have to remember to ask Saruhiko. It probably had something to do with hormones.

She unscrewed the cap and quickly tipped it upside down into her palm. Yata smelled mangos. “Give me your hands, Misaki. Palm up.” Yata did as she asked, and she dripped her fingers into the center of his wrist and swept it down to his pulse. She did the same to his other wrist. The new scent mingled with hers and his head swam.

She pulled her hands back and he blinked. “Is that all?”

“All I feel comfortable with, our sunshine. How do you feel?”

Dizzy, like he wasn't part of his body really, that he was just hanging onto his self by his fingertips. He shrugged.

Shinji stepped out of the bathroom. Their mother put her hands on her hips. “Now Shinji, did you really do it completely?”

“I don't know how it takes you so long,” Shinji muttered.

“What was that?”

“Dad’s still on his walk,” Shinji amended, “so should I go and check on him? Make sure he didn’t get…I dunno, eaten or something.”

Their mother sighed and stood up. “No, I'll look.” She brushed Shinji’s hair back and kissed his cheek—he recoiled a bit at the contact—and left.

Shinji sat down next to him. “You smell weird.”

“You smell like overripe mangos,” Yata retorted, elbowing his side.

“No, you seriously smell weird. I have no idea what it is.”

His head was still swimming from the combined scents, so he had no clue what the incense itself smelled like on his skin. “Well maybe I'm special.”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“I only got some on my wrists though. So I don’t know why it’s so strong.”

“Yeah, normally you like, fucking baptize in the stuff.”

“Do you know why I'd only get so little?”

“Nah, but don’t let it get to you, Misaki. Nothing ever happens. It's a ritual, so it's like symbolic or something.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Shinji smelled too pungent, scents too ripe and strong. It was exhausting being around him. “Think I'm gonna turn in early.”

“Baby.”

Yata shoved Shinji. “Shut up.”

“I mean, you are in middle school still, so you gotta get your rest. It'll help you grow.”

Yata tunneled under the covers and kicked at Shinji. “I said shut up.”

Shinji slid onto the floor and crawled over to the pillows and blankets that served as his bed for the night. “You can turn off the lights then.”

“Cool, thanks.”

“If Mom and Dad trip in the dark, well that’s their problem.”

“Invest in phones.”

Shinji laughed. “I know, right?”

\---

In the low light, with only the glow of Shinji’s phone behind him, Yata lifted his wrist to his face and smelled. He didn't know what he smelled, but he was struck with a vivid image of him and Saruhiko sitting on the roof of the school together, with their breath frosting into mist.

\---

Yata dreamt that he was awake. It was odd to think like that, but that was the explanation for the something hovering above him. There was nothing there, but there was something, shapeless, existing, over him.

\---

**Yata (10:30):**  
**wat cn ur body do to make it smell weird?**

**Stupid Monkey (10:31)**  
**What.**

**Yata (10:31):**  
**thats totally hormones right**

**Stupid Monkey (10:33):**  
**What.**

**Yata (10:33):**  
**comeon ur smart**

**Stupid Monkey (10:34):**  
**I???? Am Not???? A Doctor???**

**Yata (10:35):**  
**ur smart tho**  
**Yata (10:36):**  
**im sayin hormones**

**Stupid Monkey (10:37):**  
**I don’t even think you know what hormones are.**  
**Stupid Monkey (10:50):**  
**Come on, I expected a response to that.**  
**Stupid Monkey (11:30):**  
**Misaki?**

\---

Yata refused to let go of the locket when he woke up, but his father said he should probably dump it. But Yata knew it was supposed to be protection, so he kept it on him, only taking a peek inside to see if the herbs had changed (the florescent lighting of the bathroom made them look grayer, otherwise there was no change). Maybe it was just sleeping in a different bed that gave him nightmares, but he still kept the locket stuffed in his pocket. He considered asking Saruhiko if that was a thing, but after he fell asleep in the middle of texting, he had a feeling that he'd be less likely to humor his “stupid questions” and just jump straight into the teasing.

Yata ended up sleeping most of the car ride. 

\---

Yata's mother woke him up at a rest stop. Which was good, because as soon as he became coherent, he really needed to piss. And after that, he was hungry. 

He wandered around the rest stop, searching for a venting machine at first, but he forgot his hunger and just took in the area. The place didn’t really feel real. Sure, there were buildings, but it still didn’t feel like it meant anything. He could hear the road further in the distance, but the roar seemed like it was a couple miles in the distance, not just a turn away. He supposed the view should’ve been nice, since it was woodlands climbing up a hill, but it didn’t feel safe. If anyone took pictures, he’d be surprised because there was nothing worthwhile.

The air was colder there than anywhere else. He wanted to get going as soon as possible.

He got himself ice cream from a venting machine he found and chomped on it. He didn't really pay attention to what kind he grabbed, but it was light blue and had chunks of sour candy in it. It reminded him of Saruhiko.

He took a picture of it and texted it to Saruhiko.

**Stupid Monkey (16:35):**  
**Misaki.**  
**Stupid Monkey (16:35):**  
**What is this.**

**Yata (16:36):**  
**it u**

**Stupid Monkey (16:38):**  
**Oh Misaki…**

Yata giggled a little bit and looked up from his phone. There was a man across from him, and Yata stopped and stared. He seemed familiar, but Yata had never seen anyone like him before, not even in passing. He was fashionable, for one, in tight black jeans and a white shirt sloppily tucked into his pants, but in a way that it looked on purpose and kinda cool. He had a light leather jacket, a thick leather belt, and leather boots. He was weighed down by silver rings on every finger and heavy chains around his neck. His clothes looked so perfect, they had to be expensive. Yata never knew anyone that fashionable, or anyone who would put that much effort into his appearance just to look like he didn't give a shit, never seen anyone outside of television.

The man lifted his head and turned over to Yata. For a second, under the thick mess of black hair, Yata thought his eyes were the brightest blue, but he blinked and they were obviously dark brown. He stared at Yata for a long moment, and Yata hunched his shoulders and glared back. He shuffled his feet a bit further apart so he felt like he was a threat ready to fight instead of a cornered cat.

The man walked over towards him and Yata ground his teeth together. He bent at the waist and Yata could see the black swirl of a shapeless tattoo on his chest. He reached his hand out and held Yata's nose. He dug his fingernails into Yata's nose and twisted. He grinned as Yata's eyes watered. “Didn't your parents tell you that it's not nice to stare?”

\---

**Yata (17:05):**  
**so**  
**Yata (17:06):**  
**rest stops**  
**Yata (17:06):**  
**wats up w/them**

**Stupid Monkey (17:08):**  
**????**

**Yata (17:09):**  
**they weird my dude**

**Stupid Monkey (17:11):**  
**They’re entrances to the void**  
**Stupid Monkey (17:12):**  
**So the veil is thin**

**Yata (17:12):**  
**rlly**

**Stupid Monkey (17:13):**  
**I can’t believe you bought that.**  
**Stupid Monkey (17:14):**  
**LOL**  
**Stupid Monkey (17:15):**  
**No, they just don’t have people who stay there long so they feel weird**  
**Stupid Monkey (17:17):**  
**I don’t even think they have people who come in regularly to clean.**  
**Stupid Monkey (17:18):**  
**I’m not an expert on the janitorial status of rest stops**

**Yata (17:20):**  
**wat omg who talks like that???**

**Stupid Monkey (17:22):**  
**You say that but you’re the one wasting your text messages texting me over and over so I’m the winner here.**

\---

Shinji complained about having to be in another shitty motel.

Their father sighed and handed Yata a suitcase to carry in. “You don't have to sleep on the floor, Shinji.”

“Misaki kept me up with all of his tossing and turning last night while I was on the floor. Besides,” Shinji added under his breath, just enough so Yata could hear, “I'd get scolded if I did share the bed.”

“I can sleep on the floor, y'know,” Yata told him as they walked the suitcases into the room.

“I mean, yeah, you can, but I don't think they'd let you.”

Yata placed the suitcase between the beds. “Why not?”

Shinji held up a large plastic bag. “Put this in the bathroom for me, _our sunshine_.”

“Could you sound a little more creepy?” Yata muttered, grabbing the bag and walking it back. Yata put it on the sink and recognized the shampoo bottles that had the incense in it. Yata fished the locket out of his pocket and clicked it open.

“Doesn't it feel weird to be called that?” Shinji called from the other room. 

“Not really,” Yata answered, dumping the dust and clear glass in the trash. “I mean, it's weirder having a different last name.” Yata looked up and saw Shinji leaning against the bathroom door. “And after all…” Yata planted his fist against his chest and puffed it out. “I am a delight.”

Shinji snorted and ruffled Yata's hair. “Sure kid, sure.”

\---

Yata was used to being a big brother from his birth family, so sitting on the floor with Shinji, takeout between them, as they passed his phone back and forth playing checkers was one of the few times he felt like the younger sibling.

\---

The thing from his dreams was sitting in the edge of the bed. Yata tried to move, but he was paralyzed. Not even his neck would move. The thing raised a finger to its lips. Yata did not know how it had those features. He tried to wake himself up, but stayed where he was. It reached out with a hand that Yata wasn't even sure it should have and fire burned instead of fingers.

 

 

Yata yelled and fell out of bed and onto Shinji.

Shinji, as it turned out, was the most creative swearer when he was rudely woken up.

\---

Yata slept the entire drive to the next hotel, and the final hotel, from his family’s conversation that he was barely awake to understand. Yata didn't want nightmares, and in the car, he only dreamt good things. Maybe it was because of the open air, keeping things that shouldn't exist from settling.

\---

They were in an actual western hotel, in a room next to the elevator. Shinji was sprawled on the sofa bed while their parents searched for the cheapest fast food place. Yata sat at Shinji's feet, looking through the provided booklet at the room service menu, fantasizing about the long list of breakfast items.

“I've never been so happy for shitty frames. I don't mind futons but the floor just sucks.” Shinji poked at Yata's side with his foot. “Hey, you should freak out more often.”

Yata bit his lip and flipped to the channel listings. “So we're meeting up with the others tomorrow?”

Shinji sighed. “Yeah, but it's boring. Believe me, you'd much rather be here.”

“Nah.”

“Trust me, bro.”

Yata fell back on the bed, heard their family in the other room. “Nah.”

\---

Yata didn't trust himself to sleep at night, but he did anyways. His dreams were mostly clear, except for the echoes of laughter.

\---

Yata was uncomfortable with the notion of meeting a bunch of families at a memorial park, but that was what they did. Yata was wearing his uniform because he didn't have anything nicer. Yata's mother fussed with his collar, told him to smile and be polite, and please Misaki I know you're brash but please don't swear.

Shinji received none of that, and looked bored. He only spoke up once, asking how many families would be there (four).

They walked into the park, and by the number of adults, they were the last to arrive. They looked up as they approached, and Yata could see them all smile.

“Strong handshakes, Misaki,” Yata's father said as they walked towards each other.

“Uh-huh.”

“Remember, you are our sunshine.”

\---

The greetings took three hours. They actually didn't, but it really felt like that. His cheeks hurt from smiling, his arm numb from all the firm handshakes. Two of the families had kids his age, Mako and Eric. Mako was nice and Eric was more sarcastic than Saruhiko, but Mako was a girl, so he hung out with Eric. They both were adopted.

Yata heard Mako ask where Rin was, and got a simple “they're not here.”

Eric pulled grass out of the ground and scattered it.

\---

After about an hour, everyone started go to their separate ways. Some of the high schoolers asked if they could hang out. Eric clung to his adopted brother’s side and followed. Shinji eagerly followed without inviting Yata. Mako went to her college-aged sister, and no way was Yata following her.

He wandered behind his parents and the other adults, not really intending to talk to them or anything. He just didn't know what else to do.

They went into an outdoor dining area, open on nearly all sides, except for the back, where white concrete jutted out of the rest of the building with the bathrooms on the outside part of the wall.

Yata sat along the wall, playing a game on his phone, occasionally listening when the wind blew their conversation towards him.

For a while, he only heard brief snippets:

“Puberty isn't enough.”

“So far along too.”

“Is middle school even enough?”

“Don't want to wait.”

“Look at Rin. There was nothing.”

“Eric is better.”

“Saw the bruises.”

“Dogs, they all are. Don’t—”

Then the wind grew stronger, and Yata heard their entire conversation:

“—sensitive. Why just the other day, he seemed to sense something, or something revealed themselves to him.” That was his mother.

“A fluke, or nightmare.”

“Now Chiyo, if we called everything flukes or nightmares, we wouldn't be here. Our sunshine suffers from frequent headaches. Shinji tells me that Misaki sensed a tear in their middle school, without any aids.”

Yata froze, and the wind blew cold mist into his face. They were talking about him.

“He seems charming, but I don't have hope for him.”

“Our sunshine earns his name.”

Yata's phone buzzed. Yata stared at Saruhiko's name, at his simple question. He pushed himself up and typed out a response as he rounded the corner. He had heard enough, heard enough.

Yata ran into someone. Yata stumbled back and dropped his phone. “Shit, sorry—” he stopped, watched the man bend down and pick up his phone, and Yata recognized the thick silver rings on his fingers. The man straightened up and flipped Yata's phone around to stare at it. “Hey, that's mine.”

The man held the phone a bit higher, out of Yata's reaching fingers. “Who calls their friend a monkey?”

“Fuck off!” Yata growled and jumped. Still too short.

The man was obviously scrolling through Yata's messages, grinning a knife slash, his eyes wide. “What's your friend’s name?”

Yata shoulder checked the man and he bounced off. The man laughed, a bit higher than Yata could ever expect, a little more manic and scratchy. He did let go of his phone though, letting it bounce on the grass before he grabbed Yata’s hair, forcing his fingers under the locks in a firm grip that every flick of his wrist made Yata’s head jerk and follow. “You've got a lot of energy, don't you, Misaki?”

“Don't fucking call me that,” he hissed, more pissed that the man read enough of their conversations to know Saruhiko called him that than the fact that his first name was used.

“You're a little firecracker. Almost tempted to see what color your hair burns.”

Yata kicked at him and he was abruptly let go. Off balance, he fell next to his phone, and he grabbed that first before he sat up and looked around for the man. All he saw was Eric walking towards him. Eric stopped in front of him and tilted his head. “Aren't you a little old for playing in the mud?”

“Aren't you a little snarky for someone who should fuck off?”

Eric looked bored by that response. He shrugged and walked into the bathroom.

Yata wandered around the park.

\---

He tried to talk to Shinji when Mako’s dad called them over for hamburgers. Shinji just looked straight through him and nodded absently. He looked up at Eric’s brother when he walked over and said to him: “Just…a couple more minutes okay? Need more time to think.”

“That’s fine,” he responded, and when he walked away, Shinji followed, without even looking back at Yata.

Yata felt really small then.

\---

They had a cookout with a small campfire. A couple of times, the air mister enough that it felt like rain, but the skies remained clear. Despite the fact that it was embarrassing, he hung out with Mako and watched her throw things into the fire to make it flare. (He tried asking what made it green, and she answered “copper of some kind,” which was delightfully vague.) Misaki spent the entire time blushing and barely able to answer her, but she still ended up plugging her number into her phone.

“It’d be nice to talk to someone who understands!” Mako said. Whatever that meant. Yata didn’t know anything, really.

\---

Yata ended up running off when Mako was distracted. There was just too much interaction. He found himself walking back to the bathrooms, sitting with his back against the wall, texting Saruhiko.

**Yata (20:20):**  
**I want to go home.**

**Stupid Monkey (20:21):**  
**Aren’t you having fun?**

He heard Shinji and the others his age talking in the distance. “They’re called HOMRA. They’re an alternative so if you can’t let go of this, you should look into them.”

“Fuck guys,” Shinji groaned, “I get it, I do, but…like…this still makes sense to me.”

“What about your brother?”

“What about Misaki?”

**Yata (20:22):**  
**not nymore**

“You should tell him—”

“But that’s—”

“What’s the problem?”

**Stupid Monkey (20:23):**  
**Why not?**

“I’m still…”

**Yata (20:23):**  
**complicated………………**

“That’s fine, just think about it. If you want to do something though, you’ve only got two years.”

“Yeah…”

“Keep in touch, Shinji. If you find yourself around, I’ll see if Mr. Mikoto can talk to you.”

“Thanks, I will. See ya.” Shinji crunched through the underbrush, then paused. “Who are you?”

“All of you are so impolite aren’t you?”

“What are you talking about? You’re not one of us.”

“I mean, I could be.”

**Stupid Monkey (20:25):**  
**Well, as far as I’m concerned, that’s no lost cause.**

“Okay, creep, phones exist and I have mine out.”

“Wow, really rude. And hey, I was just going to warn you…”

**Yata (20:26):**  
**helpful >3>**

“If you’re talking about things behind your parents’ back…”

**Stupid Monkey (20:27):**  
**You’re asking for parental advise from the orphan by choice I don’t know what you expected**

“It’s said that bugs will come out of your mouth. 

“So just be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never let me write extensive text conversations again.
> 
> I hope all of you who were looking forward to answers had fun. Maybe you'll figure something out. Or maybe just one thing.


	5. Life Refuses to Settle Properly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaayyyyyyy this took a long time to get out! I had a lot of trouble writing this. A lot of trouble.
> 
> A lot of the comments (that I couldn't bring up the energy to respond to sorry for that) seemed confused, so I'll just say that there's a mystery element, but don't worry about trying to figure things out! That's my bad for being inspired by the When They Cry series with convoluted plots that you can't even try to figure out in a timely manner. Things will happen and reveal themselves gradually, up until the last sentence, so just relax and hope Yata's life gets better.

Their hotel had an indoor pool. When Yata opened the door though, the place was completely empty, and the lights were off. There wasn’t even a lifeguard. He had a feeling that someone was slacking off somewhere. Right now though, he was glad for it. Yata took off his shoes and set them along the side, sitting down on the edge. The ripples reflected and scattered the low light, and Yata watched for a while, not necessarily mesmerized, just staring because he didn’t know what to do.

Yata slipped his feet into the cold water, added his own waves to the pool. He pulled out his phone and called Saruhiko. At the first ring, he thought it was a terrible idea, that it was midnight and Saruhiko would be asleep—

“Misaki?”

—or he could just answer right away. “Hey, Saru.”

“Why are you calling me in the middle of the night?” Ah yes, there was the grumpiness he knew so well. 

Yata lifted his foot out of the water, then splashed it back down. “I don’t want to go to sleep.”

He expected something traditionally Saruhiko, but all he got was silence, then a sigh. “Why?”

“I’ve been getting really bad nightmares at night.”

“As opposed to nightmares during the day?”

“Actually yeah. Sleeping in the car is fine, it’s just…roadside motels.”

“That makes sense, those are crap.”

Yata laughed and slowly shimmied back so he could lay down on the tile, feet still dangling in the water.

Saruhiko breathed on the other end. “Misaki?”

“Just…talk to me. I don’t want to fall asleep. It’s been such a weird day, everything's wrong and I don't know anything and…and I just know…I know I’m not going to sleep well. Keep me awake, Saru?”

Saruhiko sighed. “Misaki, we can’t…we can’t talk for eight hours.”

“I can find enough things to talk about. You know me, I’m good at this.”

“I trust your ability to talk, I just don’t want to pay the phone bill.”

“Ah…yeah.”

“Maybe…thirty minutes. Or an hour. No more, okay.”

“Okay.”

“Is it snowing where you are?”

“Nah. We’ve some mist rain.”

“Mist rain. I am in awe of your rhetoric.”

Yata laughed. “You always fucking talk like that…it’s great.”

“I’m glad I can be so amusing…”

“So, you’ve got snow?”

“We’ve got snow,” Saruhiko groaned. “I can’t get out of my house. I tried opening the door and all this snow poured in…”

“Send me a picture.”

“It’s night. You won’t be able to see anything.”

“Streetlamps exist dude. But man, I love the snow. I could make snow angels, sled…”

“Are you five?”

“Come on, it’s fun.”

“Do that on your own. I won’t be there.”

“You’d be cool with, like, other things right?”

“I liked the idea you had. The arcade thing. Giving you some change and you show me a good time.”

“Shut up!” Yata unconsciously kicked out, splashing water in an arc. Saruhiko laughed in his ear. He pouted up at the ceiling, imagined Saruhiko was there, watching. Saruhiko had four moods: bored, condescending, sneer, and the laughs he got when whatever sarcasm and his strange thoughts filtered through like sunlight through ice. He did start smiling though. Yata didn't know when, but he did. He wasn't sure if that was a mood or just him relaxing, trusting Yata. If it was a mood, he thought it'd be peace. He could clearly see that crooked, small, involuntary smile through the crackling of the phone. “When I get back, we’ll go to the arcade.”

“If I can get out.”

“They haven’t plowed yet?”

“They don’t plow alleyways.”

“You do have a house, right?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “Yes. It’s just…down an alleyway…or three.”

“Good, I guess. I mean, you live somewhere. I thought I’d have to like, convince you to live with me.”

“Misaki, are you mothering me?”

“No!”

“I’m being mothered by someone shorter than me.”

“Shut up, you stupid monkey,” Yata muttered, turning onto his side, one foot slipping out of the water. The tile seemed really comfortable, for some reason. He yawned.

“Go to sleep, Misaki.”

“I don’t…”

“Misaki.”

“These nightmares, they’re so weird.”

Saruhiko sighed. “Do you have problems wetting the bed too?”

Yata wanted to be taken seriously. “There’s things.”

“What kind of things?”

Yata didn’t even know if words existed in any language that could describe the things, the feeling, the familiarity but utter alien nature. “They’re…things.”

Saruhiko was silent, and Yata felt stupid. “Where are you staying?”

“In a hotel? Like, a legit, Western hotel.”

“What floor are you on?”

“Sixth.”

“Good.”

“Why does that matter?”

“Four is death. And you’re not on that floor.”

“Oh.” Was Saruhiko taking this seriously? Yata didn’t know what to think about that. “So…”

“And western hotels…they’re busy right?”

“Yeah, our room is next to the elevator, and I can always hear the elevator going off.”

“There’s too much movement. What can settle if there’s movement?”

“Is that why I can sleep easily in the car?”

“Sure.” Saruhiko probably intended for it to sound flippant, but Yata felt like he did care and was just covering it up. He had already done too much to not be.

“So roadside motels are just bad voodoo?”

“I wouldn’t call it voodoo, but yes.”

“What should I do if I have to sleep there again?”

“I don’t know, Misaki.”

“Mother’s got some popery. Maybe I’ll use that.”

Saruhiko was silent on the other end, then he let out a long sigh. “You really are something, Misaki.”

“Yeah? Well, what kind of something?”

“If only I knew, Misaki. Now go to bed.”

“You know, I think I will.” Yata felt calm now, like he’d get a full night’s sleep. “Thanks, Saru.”

“Mmmhmm…” Saruhiko yawned as well. “Maybe in three more days, the snow will be melted enough I can tunnel my way out.”

“I hope so. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Yata waited a couple more seconds and hung up.

\---

Yata did sleep through the night. For the first time since they started the roadtrip, he felt like he could honestly say that he slept well when his parents asked. And he thought that they knew too, because his mother smiled so softly and brushed his bangs back and kissed his forehead.

\---

The motel thing would be a problem though, he could tell. His parents apologized and said that they couldn’t afford to stay in fancy places. Shinji seemed especially distraught about the loss of a bed. Yata could only think about the conversation with Saruhiko. He asked if he could have the locket and the herbs for the ritual that they did. He definitely didn’t want the incense, just the protection. Just like before, the bottom was filled up.

“Did it work for you?” Shinji asked quietly from his place on the floor.

Yata didn’t even know what it was supposed to do, so he just shrugged and then made an noise so Shinji understood.

“Maybe this entire thing is just…” Yata looked over the edge of the bed at Shinji and found him laying there with his pillow over his head, like he was trying to smother himself.

\---

Yata waited until everyone was asleep, then went back into the bathroom where the herbs were. He filled it up until it was full, until he was choking on the scent.

He didn’t have any dreams at all.

\---

Yata did not trust rest stops. Saruhiko said they were weird and there was that man from before. Completely untrustworthy. He called Saruhiko. “We’ve got five minutes fill in the time for five minutes.”

“For all your love of games, you don’t seem to like playing them,” Saruhiko teased, but before his voice got serious. “What’s wrong?”

“Rest stop.”

“Ah. Atmosphere horrible?”

“I guess. I just met this really horrible guy at one before. Some fancy asshole. He grabbed my nose.”

Saruhiko was silent, then forced a laugh. “Fancy assholes hang out at rest stops now?”

“And at memorial parks.”

“Why were you at a memorial park?”

“It’s where the cons are.”

“Misaki…”

“What?”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s what I know, Saru. It’s all I know.” He kicked a trashcan and swore.

“Please tell me you didn’t just hurt yourself.”

“I didn’t!” Yata yelled, limping across the sidewalk.

“You know, you should try talking. You like talking. Try to figure something out.”

Yata groaned.

“Seriously, I’m tired of hearing you complain.”

Yata didn't know what else to do though. Saruhiko listened. Saruhiko cared. And if Saruhiko was getting tired of him what was he supposed to do?

\---

Their parents left to get food, leaving Yata and Shinji alone. Yata could interrogate him now. Yata rolled over on the bed and looked down at Shinji. “The fuck’s up with you?”

Shinji just looked up at Yata.

“You’ve been sour.”

“I’m just thinking.”

“About what?”

Shinji sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Uh, yeah it does.” Yata poked at Shinji. “You’re my brother.”

“You’re adopted.”

Yata flinched. 

“Look, you just don’t understand.”

“That’s why I’m—”

“Just fuck off, Misaki.” Yata flinched. Shinji just sounded so defeated. His words should’ve bit, should’ve been sharp, but they were soft, like the beginning raindrops of a storm that had yet to break. Yata rolled back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

\---

Yata didn't know what the protection did. It felt like it worked, though he was so unnerved, he would've accepted any answer. He figured his parents would've answered him vaguely, like they always seemed to do—he had just started to notice, in the car, when Shinji talked and asked questions and what seemed logical to him made Shinji mad. And yeah, he was a prick lately, but he was older, understood, and it reminded him of Saruhiko's attitude.

So Shinji would be the only one to answer him.

And Yata ruined that. (Or Shinji ruined it.)

Yata asked the wrong questions. (Or were they right and that rightness soured Shinji.)

Yata was such a moron. (He couldn't expect to be the little brother again.)

\---

They arrived home, and Yata threw his suitcase into his room and sent a frantic and half unintelligible text telling him to meet him at the arcade—Saruhiko seemed to understand him though, considering he only made fun of Yata’s spelling—and raced out of the apartment.

Most of the snow seemed to be gone, still piles of dirty snow along the roadside, but none elsewhere, just the lingering chill of winter keeping the world frozen. 

Yata didn't live far from the arcade, but Saruhiko must've lived closer, because Saruhiko was right inside the door when Yata burst his way in. Yata turned to Saruhiko and smiled.

Saruhiko wrinkled his nose and took a couple steps back. “You smell horrible.”

Yata stepped towards him, his heart sinking as Saruhiko moved back to the wall. “Saru—”

“Seriously. You really reek.”

“Saru, seriously.” Yata took a step forward, his hand out, and Saruhiko sidled around the wall away from him. Yata clenched his first and let his hand fall. “Jackass…” he muttered, the insult sounding pathetic in his ears.

Saruhiko stared at him, then wrapped his scarf around his face, looping it around his head four times before tucking the end over his nose. “Don't take it personally,” Saruhiko said, his muttering muffled by the layers. “You just have some…” Saruhiko hesitated, searched for his words, “residual…motel…stink. Probably. Or…something.”

Yata stared, took a step forward, watched as Saruhiko shifted his weight and looked around.

“It's not you, is the point. Just take like five more showers before we meet again.” Saruhiko burrowed around in his jacket and pulled out a bread bag full of quarters. He held it out to Yata. “Go ahead. Show me a good time.”

Yata blushed and snatched the heavy bag. “Just let that go already!”

“I will when you stop having amusing reactions, Misaki.”

\---

Yata always imagined the scene to be more fun in his head, the two of them in the arcade. It wasn't that different than the first time, when they met up by accident.

Saruhiko stood closer to him then. Or maybe he didn't. Yata faked his enthusiasm whenever he won, turning to Saruhiko to see his reaction. There wasn't much to look at, since he kept his face covered. He didn't smile enough for his eyes to change. But Saruhiko was always watching. That was something.

The arcade had low lighting in most places, burnt out bulbs in other, so most of the lights came from the machines. So each screen flashed brilliantly on Saruhiko’s pale face. Yata didn't know why he picked that up. 

Yata looked up at him as he sat down at a racing game, then narrowed his eyes. “Do you own clothes?”

“What kind of question is that?” Saruhiko droaned from behind the layers. 

“I just noticed you're in the school uniform.”

“Not true. The scarf isn't part of any uniform.”

Yata sighed and shook his head. He didn't realize how exhausted he felt, but talking with Saruhiko seemed daunting.

Saruhiko shifted his weight. “What did you expect me to wear?”

“I dunno.” Yata looked over at Saruhiko. “To be honest, that does fit.”

Saruhiko tugged at the loose sleeves.

“You know what I mean.” Yata shoved quarters into the machine. “Like, layers. Jackets. Buttons. Belts.”

“I suppose there are worst things to be associated with.”

“Like?”

Saruhiko shrugged. “Leather, jewelry. That sounds odd—”

“Nope. Not at all.” Yata got a headache and took his hands off of the wheel, watched it twist and turn without direction. “Not at all.”

\---

Yata went through most of the bag. He handed it to Saruhiko. “Sorry for wasting—”

“Not a waste,” Saruhiko said quickly. He clicked his tongue and looked away. “It's not like I use it for much.”

“Well, yeah.” Yata said, just to fill the space. He didn't know what to say. He didn't even know what he should say.

Saruhiko stared at him. Without seeing his mouth, Saruhiko was blank. Yata didn’t know what to think.

“Well…see ya.” Yata turned and started to walk out into the cold.

“Misaki.”

“What?”

Saruhiko reached out, hesitated, and grabbed Yata’s wrist. Outside, someone lit a cigarette and the smoke stun his nose. “You can…” Saruhiko faltered, looked away, down at his hand, over Yata’s shoulder. “You know…call me. Whenever. I don’t do anything. You’re not interrupting. I like hearing you call…more than texting, I mean. You’ve got horrible spelling.” Saruhiko let go of his arm and tugged the scarf down off his face. His nose wrinkled at Yata’s apparently still horrendous smell, but he kept his face uncovered. “Okay?”

“Yeah okay. We’ll do this again, yeah?”

“Only if you shower.”

\---

“Did you have fun, Misaki?” Yata’s mom asked when he came home. 

“Yeah, I did.”

“You missed dinner.”

He missed it by a couple of hours. It was pretty much time for him to go to bed, even if it was a vacation. “Sorry. Can I eat in my room?”

She smiled. “Of course. It’s in the microwave.”

Yata heated up his food, put it on his bedside table and got changed. His pants hit the floor heavily, the locket weighing it down. Oh yeah, that. He glanced at his trash can—still full of notes—and went over to the bathroom. Shinji was brushing his teeth. Shinji raised an eyebrow and wiggled his fingers in a wave around the brush. “You seem in a better mood.”

Shinji shrugged and garbled around toothbrush. “You too.”

“Well, yeah, I guess.” Yata popped open the locket and dumped ash into the can. Shinji stopped brushing him and watched him, his eyebrows pressing together. “What?”

Shinji just shook his head and spat out a glob of toothpaste into the sink.

“So, hey, I overheard something at the…con, I guess.”

Yata expected a bit of laughter since he called it a con, but Shinji just pressed his eyebrows together. 

“Did you…tell Mother and Father about my first day of middle school? Cause I heard them mention that I felt a tear? Whatever that means. But I only told you that I felt off.”

Shinji started to say something, then just shook his head and reached for his mouthwash, looking away from Yata as he drank it and sloshed it around in his mouth.

Yata went back to his room.

\---

Yata figured out that if he asked, he was given. So he spent most of his vacation in his room playing four different games, calling or texting Saruhiko every day to make him feel like he was an actual person instead of just someone existing.

\---

Mako texted him, which probably shouldn't have given him a heart attack, but it did.

**Mako (13:15):**  
**I'm sad schools starting…**

**Yata (13:16):**  
**like vaycay**

**Mako (13:18):**  
**I do enjoy my family, but I was thinking about the kids at school.**  
**Mako (13:19):**  
**Do they not make fun of you?**

**Yata (13:20):**  
**oh yah that happns**  
**Yata (13:21):**  
**bt i got saru so whtev**

**Mako (13:22):**  
**Friend?**

Before Yata could type, her responses rolled in.

**Mako (13:22):**  
**Lucky**  
**Mako (13:23):**  
**I had Rin but she awakened**  
**Mako (13:23):**  
**Well it didn't work but she tried**  
**Mako (13:24):**  
**So I don't have anyone to talk to now**  
**Mako (13:27):**  
**Sorry. Don't tell your parents. I am excited I am grateful I am but I miss Rin.**

Yata put his phone aside, only barely remembering to type out that it was okay. He covered his face and breathed, and his breath stuttered on its way out. His fingers shook. He still didn't know anything, but he couldn't stop his everything from shuttering.

\---

School was almost a relief, because he had to do something. He had to get out of bed. He had to leave the house. Getting to see Saruhiko every day was just a plus.

Saruhiko was leaning against the gate, waiting for Yata. Yata waved and Saruhiko seemed to be fighting a smile. “Misaki.”

“What class are you in?”

“Yours, of course.”

Yata didn’t remember when he told Saruhiko, but Saruhiko probably looked it up at some point. That seemed like him. Yata told him about the ending to his newest game and Saruhiko played on his phone, chiming in every so often. By the time they had claimed seats, they were actually talking about school.

Yata looked at the classmates as they walked in. His old friends didn't come in. They must've been smart enough to get into another class. That was a relief. He wasn't sure if he had the energy anymore to deal with them.

Their teacher walked in, and the class settled down for role call.

Yata didn't even consider that the teacher would read off Nanase. “It's Yata!” He yelled as he stood.

The teacher blinked, squinted at the sheet, then muttered about a note. Yata breathed out a sigh and sat back down, scratching the back of his head.

Saruhiko reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Nanase,” Saruhiko hissed behind him. “Your name is Nanase?”

Yata pressed his eyebrows together and turned around while he whispered, “Well yeah, technically.” And before he could elaborate on what that technically was, he saw Saruhiko's face. 

Saruhiko only had five emotions: bored, sneer, condescending, the bursts of true emotion shown through his laughter, and the small smiles of peace. Yata didn't know if he could easily identify the expression on his face. There was anger, he could tell that much, but Saruhiko's hand was trembling, like he was afraid. He was holding Yata’s wrist tightly, but he didn't dig into the skin. “Saru—”

“Eyes front, Yata.”

Yata tugged his hand and Saruhiko let him go.

They’d talk later. Lunch, usual spot.

 

 

But when Yata went up onto the roof, Saruhiko wasn’t there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, the first sentence of the next chapter is "Like fuck Yata was going to let Saruhiko go" so that just means we get more bonding.
> 
> Thank you all for your patience. I hope to figure out the next chapter in a timely manner!


	6. Bits and Pieces Revealed, Covered Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considering chapter five ended the way I wanted chapter three ended, the pace is picking up quite a bit! Let me know if it's too fast though. This chapter basically covers all of the spring semester, and it has fewer scenes than usual, but they're longer as well!
> 
> Bit of warning for the last scene though. It's kinda gross.

Like fuck Yata was going to let Saruhiko go. Luckily he wasn't hard to find. A lonely, cranky soul like him would be in the bathroom, moping. Especially since Yata already checked the cafeteria and classroom. Yata got on his hands and knees and looked under each stall until he recognized Saruhiko’s baggy pants. “Ah-ha!”

Even if he could only see his feet, he could see Saruhiko flinch and then tentatively bring his legs up.

Yata pushed the door and found it locked. Okay. Made sense. Yata crawled under the stall. “You!”

“Misaki, you’re being very impolite.” That probably could’ve meant something, but the fact that Saruhiko was curled up on the toilet and was looking at his phone instead of at Yata made it a little silly.

“You’re the one who ran off on me. Like, what the fuck?”

“Get out of here.”

Yata crawled under the stall and grabbed Saruhiko’s foot. Saruhiko kicked Yata in the face. Yata pushed himself up, his legs still dangling out of the stall, and glared up at Saruhiko. “You. Me. Roof.”

Saruhiko blinked at him and then grinned down at him, the twisted grin Yata had only seen directed at other people. It felt plastic, forced, deliberately creepy, and it ended up meaning nothing. “Why, Misaki, are you propositioning me?”

“Hell yeah.”

Saruhiko actually didn’t know what to say. Yata took his silence as a good time to curl his legs under the door and push stand in front of Saruhiko. Saruhiko looked up at him, narrowed his eyes. Yata grabbed his wrist and tugged. “Fine.” Saruhiko stood. “Now let me go.”

“No.” He didn’t want Saruhiko to run off. That wasn’t what Saruhiko wanted to hear though, because his face hardened. Whatever. Yata drug him out into the hall. He kept looking over is shoulder at Saruhiko, at how his shoulders were drawn up to his ears, how he looked around at everything that wasn’t Yata. Very un-Saruhiko, considering when they met, Saruhiko was almost bored with the bullies strangling him. He wasn't scared of bullies, but he was of Yata for some reason.

In the stairwell, when the chatter faded away, Saruhiko pulled his hand away. He drew his hands up to his chest, fingers clenching and unclenching. “I've always known you were dull, but I’d’ve thought that you'd be a bit smarter than this.”

“So what's up? What's wrong?”

Saruhiko looked confused. “What’s wrong? What do you mean?”

“You're the smart one. You should know. It means that I'm concerned about you.”

“But—”

“Like, okay, I'm still a bit pissed that you were planning to just abandon me.” The words ended up getting caught in Yata's throat. He hadn't meant to say abandon, but that was what it was, he realized, and his throat closed. He swallowed, shook his head, and continued. “But…but you're not being Saruhiko right now and that's really kinda weird.” Yata shoved his hands into his pockets and walked towards Saruhiko. Saruhiko stood his ground and glared down at Yata. “So what's up?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “Don't act like you don't know.”

“Like you said, I'm dull. So, no, I don't know.”

Saruhiko looked confused before his expression hardened. 

“Oh shut up.”

“I haven't said anything.”

“Your face was saying a lot and it was annoying.”

Saruhiko opened his mouth to continue than huffed instead, as if annoyed that they had easily fallen back into banter without meaning to. He crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side, starting to smile crookedly. “Fine then, Misaki, I'll humor you. If you don't know anything, why did you talk to me?”

“Because no one else would,” Yata said before he could process why Saruhiko would ever ask that. Then he winced. “Shit that sounded worse than I meant it…” Yata sighed and rubbed his head, then gripped his hair and pulled with a strangled noise. “Look, I know you're tired of hearing me complain, but like, this winter sucked. I love my folks, and I'd always fight for them. Like, between them and assholes, fuck those guys. But you're…if the name ‘Nanase’ caused you to get like this, I can't even say anymore that they're innocent.”

The smile had faded into a firm line. Saruhiko stared at Yata and leaned against the railing.

Yata continued, his hands falling at his sides and swinging limply. “I don't know anything. And Shinji—my brother, I don’t know if I mentioned him—he's getting all pissy too and confused and it's like, he's in high school. He's supposed to know stuff. I was fine before, cause I'm still a kid. I've got room to be stupid. But now…I’m just…tired.” He pressed the heel of his palm into his eyes and groaned, feeling the world press and shove his shoulders. “Fuck, this is exhausting.”

“Misaki,” Saruhiko said quietly, so quietly that Yata was sure he wasn't meant to hear, that he didn't even realize it.

“Saru…You're the only worthwhile thing here. So…” Yata opened his mouth, stared at Saruhiko, waited for a way to say what he felt, what he meant, what he needed to say.

Saruhiko stared for a long moment before he closed his eyes. “Give…just a moment.”

Yata waited, watched as Saruhiko held himself and thought. After a minute, he tilted his head back and sighed. “Do you…really not know?”

Yata shook his head. 

“But…they’re your family.”

“They don't tell me anything.”

He sighed. Nodded. “Then…I suppose, if you'd like to still be friends, then I could—and now you're hugging me.”

Yata was. He wasn't sure when that happened. It just kinda did. He thought ‘I get to stay with Saru’ and his (relief? Excitement? Happiness? Sentimentality?) did the rest.

Saruhiko thumped Yata's back with his palm. It wasn't the hard ‘bro’ thump that boys did to make their hugs aggressive. It was a harsh, almost punch made by someone who had seen it multiple times but had never actually done it before. It hurt, but the action kinda looped around in on itself to be endearing. Yata pulled away and punched Saruhiko's shoulder, lightly, enough to jossle him. “Asshole.”

“Uh-huh.” Saruhiko absently rubbed his shoulder.

Lunch was almost over, Yata was sure of that. He wasn't that hungry though. “Saru.”

“Mmm?”

“Let me ask you something.”

Saruhiko sighed. “I expected as much. Ask away.”

“What…” He scratched his head, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward and stupid. “What does proposition mean?”

“What?”

“Before, you used that word.”

“Are you seriously…?”

“So, like, I'm wondering what it means.”

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“ _Misaki_ ”

“Don't say name like that!”

“No wonder you agreed. You were too stupid to know the word!”

“Saru!”

“This is beautiful.”

“Why are you on your PDA now!” Yata, cheeks now red with embarrassment before even knowing the meaning, leaned over to see what Saruhiko was doing. He was on the Internet, dictionary.com, he saw. Did Saruhiko think that it'd be funnier if he read the dictionary definition? Saruhiko lifted his PDA to eye level and out of Yata’s sight.

“Proposition. Verb, informal. Make a suggestion of sexual intercourse—”

Yata screeched.

“—to someone with whom is not sexually involved—”

Yata was still screeching, his face completely red.

“—especially in an unsubtle—” Saruhiko covered his mouth and laughed, losing the straight face he had managed to keep.

Their voices echoed in the stairwell.

\---

Their teacher gave them group work, so Yata watched Saruhiko do the work for both of them. If he wrote with his left hand, it looked eerily like Yata’s own. 

“Hey,” Yata started, realizing something, “if you don't wanna tell me what freaked you out, that's fine.”

Saruhiko stopped writing and looked at Yata over his glasses.

“Like, I get it. And it's you so I—” don't want you to leave me/don't want to do something wrong/don't want to lose you “—trust you.”

Saruhiko did three more problems. “I don't know how to phrase it.”

“I just said it doesn't matter.”

“After all of your complaining that first week? I'm pretty sure it matters.” 

That was Saruhiko being considerate. Yata could wait.

\---

Life was normal, just the monotony of school life. Yata was happy with that boredom. 

\---

Nothing weird happened until the next week. A block away from his apartment, someone yelled his name. Yata squeezed the breaks and looked around. Eric’s brother lifted his hand and waved Yata over. He was standing in the entrance of an alley, his hood up, like he was a creepy thug.

(To be honest, Yata’s first thought was Saruhiko and then he realized that Saruhiko wouldn’t wear a hoodie.)

“Sup…” Yata said, trailing off.

“Did you forget my name?” he asked, smiling a bit.

“Look, there were a lot of names.”

“Kosuke.”

“Alright. Cool.”

“Last name Fujishima.”

“Only needed the first name. But call me Yata, okay?”

Kosuke raised an eyebrow.

“It’s my birth last name.”

“Ah, okay. No, I gettcha. Eric gets like that too.”

“So what’s up, Kosuke?” Yata said, still on his bike.

“Could you get Shinji? Discretely?”

Yata raised an eyebrow. “Umm…?”

Kosuke opened his mouth. “I…” he paused. “Found a cat. I want Shinji to help me with it.”

“Shinji doesn’t like animals.”

“Oh.”

“You live in a completely different city too.”

“Well…”

“I mean, you’re a pretty chill dude, so I’ll tell him anyways.”

Kosuke sighed and ran his hand through his short, spikey hair. “Cool. Just…discreetly. No raised voices.”

“Sure, whatever.”

“Thanks.”

Yata walked into his apartment and knocked on the back of the chair that Shinji was sitting in. “What’s up?” he asked, pulling out his earbud.

Yata looked around the apartment, knelt down and whispered to Shinji. “So like…Kosuke’s here. Fujishima. From the con.”

Shinji’s eyes widened. “And?”

“He’d like to see you. Can I come with?”

“Did he ask for you?”

“No, but I’m asking you.”

Shinji popped into the kitchen, told their father that he was going out to the arcade, and left with barely a wave over his shoulder at Yata.

\---

Yata walked to his room. He looked out his window, looked at the railing of the fire escape just outside of it, and shut his door. He pulled off the screen and set it to the side and opened the window. He was just small enough to fit under the window (and he’d remember to be annoyed by that later). He walked along the fire escape and stopped before the kitchen window and sighed, his toes curling into the links. Of course they weren’t anywhere near there. He met Kosuke a block away. Couldn’t eavesdrop that easily.

Yata sighed and played on his phone.

\---

Yata, an hour later, heard the last few snippets of their conversation as Kosuke walked Shinji back.

“Remember Rin.”

“How the fuck could I forget that description?”

“Tell Yata.”

“ _Fuck_.”

Yata wasn’t sure if eavesdropping would’ve been worth it.

\---

“Between me and your family…it’s very complicated. Calling it a feud would be inaccurate, but it is all I can think to describe it.” Saruhiko paused, tore at a fresh green leaf that had fallen onto the roof. “There is no real aggression between either of us. Your families, if they realized that you were friends with me, would probably either be excited or terrified.”

“So they'd piss themselves.”

Saruhiko opened his mouth, then seemed to realized that technically, Yata was correct, and clicked his tongue. “It's not that simple.”

“I talk about you all the time. No one says anything. Though maybe I just missed something subtle.”

“No. ‘Fushimi Saruhiko’ would mean absolutely nothing. It's…” Saruhiko tore the leaf along the veins. “It's what I could do.”

“Which is?”

“Complicated.”

“Okay,” Yata said, trying not to sound disappointed. He was, but if Saruhiko wasn't willing to tell him he wasn't going to push.

“The point is, I'm valuable to them, as a thing, a tool.” Saruhiko looked at the torn strips of green in front of him and then glanced at Yata. “I thought you might've known, might've figured me out. So you became my friend for that.”

“Okay, but you know that is never do something like that, right.”

“You never have,” Saruhiko agreed. “I admit, I panicked.”

Yata closed his eyes, soaked up the sun. “It's kinda weird to have you be wrong. You seem to know everything.”

Saruhiko hummed. Yata smelled something burning.

Yata squeezed his eyes tighter. “Please tell me you didn't just light those leaves on fire.”

“If it'd make you feel better, I'll gladly say it.”

Yata sighed and rolled over. He took off his shoe and pounded it down on the fire until the cinders were smothered.

“Rude.”

“I should take your lighter. I don’t even know where you keep that stupid thing…”

“Now why would you do that?”

“You just lit some innocent leaves on fire. And you lit that guy's hair on fire.”

“You act like he didn't deserve it.”

Saruhiko was really just a five year old with a vocabulary. Light a guy’s hair on fire and then say that he started it. “I wouldn't mother you so much if you weren't such a baby, y’know.” Yata ignored Saruhiko’s responding click and wandered around the roof. He had to move, so he looked at all the sights he had seen about a thousand times before. He stopped in front of the hole in the chain link fence, the wide gap that was only semi-properly filled in during their break, thick translucent plastic stretched over the gap like a membrane. The wind blew and the plastic fluttered and expanded. Yata scratched his fingernails over it.

“You're thinking too hard,” Saruhiko said, standing up and meandering towards him. He found a hole in the plastic where one of the blackened and twisted wires lord through and picked at it. “It's not like you.”

Yata found himself watching Saruhiko's fingers, thin and boney and long, like a pianist’s, though Saruhiko had nothing to play. “You can do anything, can't you?”

Saruhiko looked over at Yata, eyebrows pressed together.

“I mean, you're smart. Not just with school stuff, but that game of yours too. Like, you make money off of that, and that's how you can afford to live alone, right?”

“Yes?” Saruhiko said slowly.

“But you've also got these whatevers that make you amazing.”

“Yes,” he said with a bit more certainty, but still clearly confused. “What is it?”

“Can’t I just flatter you? Take a compliment.”

“I’ll take it, but you’re getting at something.”

Yata sighed. “My parents always say that I'm gonna do something great, that I'm gonna mean something.” Yata needed something to do with his hands. He reached over to the hole Saruhiko widened and picked at it too. “That was always great, but it doesn't feel real anymore.”

“Misaki.”

“And like, what can I even do? Mimi and Mother talk about high schools and that's not me. I'm not smart, I can't so that, so…”

Saruhiko tore at a bit of plastic, and their skin brushed. He was cold, even in the spring warmth. “I think you're pretty spectacular. Admirable, even. Moreso than me.”

Saruhiko's hands were curled around the tear, and the bones on the back of his hand were bold, skeleton-like protrusions and Yata didn’t know why he couldn’t look away. “What can I do then? What makes me spectacular?”

Saruhiko’s hands froze. He was like a statue, chest barely even moving to breathe. Yata looked up and found Saruhiko staring at him, or maybe through him. Yata felt small and big at the same time. Small, because the weight of Saruhiko's gaze was crushing. Big, because Yata felt like was the only thing that Saruhiko was looking at it. 

(And he just realized, absently, almost an afterthought in the back of his head, because it wasn't a grand realization but just something he noticed and understood, that Saruhiko never really looked at or cared about anything other than Yata.)

“I'll let you know when I figure it out.”

\---

Yata couldn't believe that it was almost summer break. Just one more month and his and Saruhiko's plans would finally come, the ones they talked about during winter. Okay, they weren't grand plans, but they were plans. Ice cream and arcades were a perfectly valid way to spend their months of freedom.

Yata also started abusing the fire escape. It allowed him to enjoy the heat without having to go anywhere. 

He was laying down under the kitchen window, reading Saruhiko's detailed printout of the phone game he played. He had given Yata his signin information, so Yata could play and gamble. It would apparently make it easier for Saruhiko to hustle other players now that he had a reputation of being stupid good. Yata would add that flawed, human element.

Yata set the printout to the side and loaded up the game. It pretty good graphics for something made in flash. It became quickly apparent that the game only had a flash aesthetic and was, in fact, made of stronger code than that.

He heard his parents talking from inside but couldn't make out anything, just the familiar tone of their voices. He started up a game with a random and promptly forgot how to play.

He lost, predictably. He changed Saruhiko's status to “off day” so Saruhiko knew what was happening. He challenged a newbie who had only registered a week ago. Yata was putting up a good fight—which for Saruhiko's standards, was probably like a baby farting around the room—and his father opened the window, commenting how hot it was. Their words filtered out to him.

“Can you imagine if our Shinji did what that Kosuke is doing?” his mother said.

“It is not as difficult as it once was.”

“Ryouta…”

“Sister Mimi has expressed concern. He has been asking her a lot of questions.”

“That's good. I've been wanting him to ask questions instead of muttering under his breath.”

“But he has also begun to doubt.”

Yata lost. More of Saruhiko's account chipped away. Another challenger came. Yata accepted.

His mother scoffed. “What’s there to doubt? Once he knows, there’s nothing to question. We all were like that.”

“Well, you know how this generation is. We’ve heard what everyone’s saying about Kosuke. Listening to those degenerates. Believing them.”

Yata lost. Another request came in. Yata wasn’t sure if he wanted to accept. He did anyways.

“And now Shinji,” he continued.

“Do you think that Misaki will—”

“Never. He’s a good kid. He will be even better awakened. If we continue to give him everything he deserves, than nothing could go wrong.”

Yata rolled on his back and covered his eyes, stared up at the orange light that filtered through the darkness. The game chimed and told him he lost.

\---

On the last week of school, Mako texted him, saying that school was out, with five exclamation points. He remembered what she said about not liking school and congratulated her. Her response was enthusiastic and sincere, but Yata didn’t have time to respond because Saruhiko existed.

“You’re blushing, why are you blushing?”

“Nothing!” Yata yelled.

Saruhiko turned away from the slit he was tearing in the plastic over the hole on the roof. “That doesn’t sound like nothing.” He looked over Yata’s shoulder to see the phone. Yata didn’t pull it away in time. “Who’s Mako?”

“She’s a girl that I met. Y’know. Before.”

“Before?”

Yata expected the girl comment to get him immediate teasing. The terse interrogation? Weird. “At the con thing. In the winter.”

“You met a girl.”

“Yeah and I met a guy too, what’s your point?”

“Nothing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah.” Saruhiko gripped the edge of the plastic and tore it.

\---

Yata considered asking Mako—since she had went out of the way to text him that day—what she knew about the awakening, what it meant, what happened to Rin, why did she know when she didn’t, but Saruhiko being a dick kinda threw him off. He didn’t even know if she’d know the answer. He didn’t know what him asking those questions would mean, for him, for her.

So maybe, it was for the best.

\---

Shinji was talking about going to visit another family over the summer break. Kosuke’s family, from what he was implying. Keep an eye on things. Learn that way. Help if he could. Yata wasn’t sure if he wanted to listen or not. He thought that Shinji was lying. He wasn’t sure if he should tell them that, or what it would mean. So he just stayed quiet.

That night, Shinji knocked on Yata’s door. “Yo. Let me in.”

“Let yourself in,” Yata called back, continuing to text Saruhiko.

“Can you put on some music?”

Yata raised an eyebrow, then connected his phone to the speaker and let some anime theme play. He tossed his phone on the pillow and sat up. “What’s up?”

Shinji turned up the music. “I want to tell you something.”

“Okay, but do we have to go deaf doing it?”

“Yeah,” Shinji insisted. He was kinda pale, and his hand was shaking. He looked down at his hand and held his knuckles. He laughed shallowly. “Fuck, wow, okay.”

“Shinji?”

“It’s about us.” He gestured his arms widely, then rubbed his head. “Us. And you. What we do. How you fit into this. Awaken—” Shinji cut himself off with a cough. 

“Do you need a cough drop? Cold medicine? Towel?”

“No, I’m just freaked out.” Shinji shook his head. He swallowed thickly. “Okay, look. Misaki, you’re—” his throat bulged “—if you—” Shinji’s eyes widened and he brought up his hands to his mouth and retched. Yata jumped back, off his bed, away from Shinji as he coughed. Shinji pulled his head back and drew in a rasping breath, saliva dripping down his chin, and the two of them stared at the giant green mantis crawling in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added in the tearing of the plastic because in high school, my best friend and I would chip away at the paint at this one spot on the wall as we talked. Chipping at paint doesn't require as much editing as the plastic so I'm not talking about fingers going into holes.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


	7. Summertime Oddities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyy, two updates in one week! I can't believe it either. It will never happen again, I assure you.
> 
> This chapter was supposed to be the entire summer break. It didn't end up happening that way. At least that means next chapter will have a lot of shit happening? I'm not making any promises. This fic was supposed to be a oneshot and now look what's happened. I've stopped understanding how this thing is getting written.

When Yata's mind started to wander, he thought there were bugs crawling over his skin. Or maybe they were under, pushing their way through his muscles, tickling his bones, praying mantises singing at his throat.

\---

They were in class, and Yata realized he was shaking. He wasn't sure for how long. He was stuck on a problem and ended up staring at it until his vision got all fuzzy, until the paper was a splotch of white and the text wasn't even visible, the marks of his blue pen faint tracings of veins. Then he felt the bugs. And at some point, he was shaking and his vision was black. It could've been an hour, it could've been thirty seconds. He didn't know. Time moved on, and Yata wasn't sure if it dragged or sped.

Saruhiko touched the back of Yata's neck. His fingers were cold, blunt, not at all like a bug. Saruhiko felt like winter, like frozen rivers. Yata grounded himself in that image, in the sensation of Saruhiko's nails as he turned his hand and pulled away, dragging some of Yata's hair with him.

Yata looked over his shoulder. Saruhiko raised an eyebrow. Yata just shrugged and grinned. Saruhiko did not look convinced. Yata turned back to the front, before the teacher could reprimand him. 

Saruhiko kept kicking his chair, randomly. Yata stayed in class.

\---

“So,” Yata started as the two of them walked up to the roof. “Man, that math. It really threw me off. Who even gives a test the last day, y’know?”

“Misaki, if you're going to lie to me, at least give both of us the dignity of a lie you would fall for.”

Yata sighed, kicked the door, found it shut. “They locked it again.”

Saruhiko dropped down and began to work on the door. “They should know by now that we'll force our way in.”

Yata leaned against the door and watched Saruhiko, bent over so close that Yata couldn't see his hands. “Teach me how to do that sometime.”

Saruhiko hummed. “You wouldn't be good at it. It requires patience and a delicate touch.”

“You saying you have those?” 

“You're right. I can be blunt. So tell me what freaked you out.”

“I wasn't freaking out.”

“You were,” Saruhiko insisted, shoving the door open. Yata stumbled back and fell on his ass. Saruhiko strolled over to him and stood above Yata. The sun was eclipsed behind his hair. “You were,” Saruhiko repeated. “So why?”

“It's…” Yata shook his head. “Something happened at home. It's…weird.”

Saruhiko waited for a couple seconds, then moved his hand in a circle for him to continue. At Yata's responding head shake, he sighed. “You know, I'm probably far more knowledgeable about…that than anyone else.”

If Yata asked what Saruhiko knew about bugs coming out people's mouths, Yata had no doubt that he'd get an answer. And if it was just about bugs, maybe he would. But it was about what Shinji wanted to say, was too terrified to say afterward, if he even could. It was about the awakening, all these other vague terms he heard about and didn’t understand. And Saruhiko couldn't relate to that.

“I don't want to tell you.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue and walked away. He sat along the fence and started setting aside vegetables. 

Yata sat next to him, grabbed a bit of the lettuce and crunched it. “Let's not go back to class.”

“I think there's another test.”

“I'd've failed it.”

“True.”

“And you wouldn't have done it.”

“Also true.”

“So let's stay here.”

“Alright. How long?”

“Do you have anywhere to be?”

“Never.”

\---

The teachers were gone when Saruhiko and Yata finally got off the roof. They didn't talk about anything serious, and only moved once, when Yata’s butt fell asleep and they stood by the hole in the fence and picked at the plastic. They got about a fourth of the way through. It felt like an accomplishment.

Saruhiko looked tired when they reached the gate, exhausted. Yata couldn't even think to make fun of him. “You going to be alright?”

“I hate outside,” Saruhiko grumbled. “And we talked for a long time.”

Which would've made more sense if he just looked mentally exhausted with his eyes dull instead of like Yata forced him to run a marathon. Though maybe that was how mental exhaustion worked. Yata hadn't looked in the mirror lately. “You going to make it home okay? Do I need to walk you back?”

“I'm not your girlfriend,” Saruhiko muttered, looking across the street.

“Fuck you!” Yata yelled, cheeks immediately flushed. “I'm just being concerned!”

“Well stop.”

“I will!” And for thirty seconds, he stopped. Then he spoke up again. “So when can I go over to your house?”

“Why would you want to come over?”

“Cause it's yours.”

“I don't have air conditioning.”

Yata winced. “Damn.”

“Yep.”

“Must feel like hell.”

“Oh, it is at times.”

“Well the winters are warm in hell, I hope.”

“There's a kotatsu.”

“In hell or your house?”

“Do you think hell’d have a kotatsu?”

“I don't know. Maybe. You tell me.”

Saruhiko sighed and shook his head.

“I'd like to know, someday.”

“Hell’s interior design?”

“Where you live, smartass.”

“I'll think about it.” Saruhiko shoved Yata's shoulder. “Go home already.”

“I'm going!” Yata walked off. He looked over his shoulder and saw Saruhiko already gone. Yata supposed that meant he was alright.

\---

Yata missed Shinji leaving for the break. He didn’t leave a text, a message, or anything. He just got into the car with the other family and left when he got out of school. Yata didn’t text him either, so he supposed it didn’t really matter.

\---

Yata wished he could say that it only took an hour instead of a day to work up the nerve to send a text to Mako. Look, girls were terrifying. But he took a deep breath, read over his text a couple more times, and sent it.

**Yata (14:30):**   
**yo u gt tme 2 tlk**

Yata sat down on the fire escape steps and waited. Time seemed to drag on and he focused on something, anything, on the how the sun looked filtering through dust and smog, on how the shadows played in the alleyways, anything to prevent him from starting to itch.

**Mako (14:35):**   
**Sure what’s up?**

**Yata (14:36):**   
**no lk verbal**   
**Yata (14:37):**   
**wna mk shr u undrstd**   
**Yata (14:38):**   
**it big**

Mako called. “Hey, Misaki.”

Yata blushed, already. “C-call me Yata.”

She was silent, then spoke up when she realized, “Oh right, your birth name.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know why you like to be reminded of that but okay. What’s up, Yata?”

Yata’s mouth went dry. “Um…So you got out a week early?”

“Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“No. I’m leading up to it. I got off two days ago. It’s weird.”

“Different school I guess? We live in a different part of the country.”

“Yep. Makes sense. Good to know.” Yata almost hung up. He pulled his phone away and brought it back to his ear. “Sorry! Sorry. Um…I just remembered how you made the fire green. So you know, like weird shit. And that’s cool. Weird shit is a compliment. Because green fire is cool.” Yata had to physically shut his mouth.

She giggled. This was so hard for Yata. “It isn’t what you’re thinking of though. Alchemy at its most ‘weird’ as you’d call it. I think that it’s basically chemistry.”

“You think?”

“I mean, chemistry is a high school thing. And that’s not happening.”

“Really? You seem smart.”

Mako was silent for a second before she giggled. “You’re sweet, Yata.”

Yata laughed because he needed to make noise.

She laughed at him too, and they continued for a couple seconds before Yata cut himself off and her giggles trailed away. “But…I mean, awakening will happen soon. I’ve asked, you know?”

“Yeah?”

“Just because I’m curious. I’m excited for the opportunity. I can’t wait to see what it’ll teach me. But it might be a while. End of middle school for sure. Eric, I think, will be next, before we go back to school.”

“Lucky?”

“Yeah. I’ve only met him a couple of times, but I feel like a got a good handle on him. He’s got a lot of that youth, which I hear is prime.”

“Prime?” It made Yata think of steak.

“Yes. And that combined with his just bitter personality? Like…wow.”

“Wow,” Yata parroted.

“Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have brought that up. It’s supposed to be a secret.”

“I mean…” Yata started, not sure what he meant.

“I just…nevermind. Don’t tell your parents.”

“Okay.”

“I think you had a point.”

“Oh yeah. So like. Smart. Smart with weird shit. Stuff. So. Bugs.”

“Bugs?”

“What do bugs mean?”

“Um…Be more specific? As far as I know, bugs are just bugs.”

“So…my friend,” Yata said, knowing already that the lie would sound hollow just by the misdirection. “He…he started saying something. And then he kinda…threw up a bug.”

“Was it…a prank?”

“No, Saru doesn’t do pranks.” Yata wondered if it was bad that he just blurted out Saruhiko’s name, then continued. “It was alive too.”

“And he just…threw it up?”

“Yeah. You know what that’s about?”

“No,” Mako said, sounding so uncertain and confused. “I—no. That’s not. It’s not something we can do.”

“Oh. Huh.”

“That sounds like…just…magic of some kind. Something demons or spirits would use, or maybe even exorcists?”

What the fuck.

“I don’t know. I really don’t. This is out of my…You should talk to your parents.”

“No, I asked you. I want to hear from you.”

“But I don’t know.”

“Okay. That’s fine. Thank you.”

Yata hung up. He fell back and the fire escape clattered and rang at the movement.

\---

**Yata (11:29):**   
**u up**

**Stupid Monkey (11:30):**   
**Now I am.**

**Yata (11:31)**   
**rcde????**

**Stupid Monkey (11:32):**   
**You’re lucky I can read that.**   
**Stupid Monkey (11:33):**   
**I’ll meet you there.**

\---

It seemed easy to get Saruhiko to do what he wanted, which was odd considering Saruhiko’s personality. But all Yata had to say was arcade, and he’d be there. No exception. Yata didn’t understand it, really. But Yata ran to the arcade and he was there. He was still wearing his uniform, jacket and all, even in the summer heat.

“You gonna play something this time?”

“I like watching you.”

“Racing game. Let’s go.”

Saruhiko groaned and followed.

\---

“Let's make this a weekly thing,” Yata said while they fed their tickets into the machine. Saruhiko found a game that launched a coin across a course. Yata wasn't good at it, but after seeing Yata fumble once at it, lined up a shot that skidded straight over a row of fallen yen and into the jackpot. And he did it. Every single time. Even that one time when Yata nudged the machine and caused it to pick up the machine and ricocheted it off the walls and into the jackpot. It probably shouldn't have been as fun to watch as it was, but Yata cheered and laughed every time. Saruhiko had this stupid serious look on his face when he did it, and that was funny too.

So there they stood, with what had to be a thousand tickets dangling between them. “That was fun.”

“Was it?”

“Didn't you have fun?”

Saruhiko looked at Yata. About a hundred tickets were swallowed by the machine. “I suppose.” Then he yawned.

“Real comforting.”

Saruhiko shook his head. “Your enthusiasm is contagious up until the point it becomes draining.”

“That sounds to me like you had fun at one point.”

Saruhiko muttered under his breath, took a couple steps closer as the last couple hundred tickets went into the machine.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, Misaki.” The last of the tickets went into the machine. Saruhiko helped guide it in. His palm and Yata's fingers brushed. Even in the summer heat, in his uniform, he still felt like a frozen river.

“So what are you going to spend your tickets on?” Yata got out his phone.

Saruhiko hit the print button before Yata could immortalize Saruhiko's accomplishment. Yata pouted. “I don't need anything. You use them.”

“You don't get stuff you need at an arcade. Also, you won those. They're yours.”

“I don't want anything. The prizes are stupid.”

“How dare you.” 

“Like you want anything.”

“I do.”

He used his tickets to buy a finger skateboard. He had one when with his birth family, but that got left behind. Yata flicked the wheels. “Let’s make this a weekly thing.”

“Fine by me,” Saruhiko said, tearing at the corner of his ticket receipt.

“Until school starts up.”

Saruhiko nodded, glanced over at Yata, then down at the receipt. “At least.”

\---

The next time they met up, Yata bought Saruhiko ice cream. Saruhiko refused to go out into the street and sat in the shade of the alleyway. “Vanilla or green tea?”

“Why’d you get green ice cream?”

“I like green ice cream.” Yata handed him the vanilla. “I make a mean green tea mochi too.”

“I can’t believe you make anything.”

Yata didn't take the bait, staring at his ice cream and thinking.

Saruhiko frowned. “Misaki?”

“The second to last day of school,” Yata started, licking a bit of ice cream that had started to melt down his cone, “Shinji was trying to tell me something.”

“What was it?” Saruhiko said, taking a small bite of the ice cream, but otherwise watching Yata.

“I don't know. He…didn't get to finish. He kinda vomited up a bug.”

“Oh?”

“Like, it doesn't sound real. It should've happened in a manga. Could only happen. But it was real. It crawled in his hand. And that day in school, I just blanked out and I swore there were bugs in me too. I still think they are there. I tried asking a girl about it—”

“Why didn't you ask me? Why'd you ask a girl?”

“Is that really what you should be focusing on!”

“Yes. I asked you and you said no and turned to someone else. That is incredibly important.”

Yata really wanted to shove his ice cream into Saruhiko's face. It was hard to resist. “Could you take your head out of your ass for one second?”

“Fine. Someone didn't want your brother to say anything, and that was a preventive measure. You panicked and everything you're experiencing is psychosomatic. Now about this girl—”

“No. Back it up. Park it.”

Saruhiko sighed and took another bite of ice cream.

“First off, psychoswhathuh?”

“You're making it up. Your brain is fooling itself into thinking it's happening. Paranoia.”

“Okay. So I can believe that. Cause it's brain stuff and that sounds real. But the bug…that's…not a thing, right? That's not something that can happen, right?”

“If it can't happen, then what did you see? Obviously, it wasn’t real.”

“I couldn't make that up!”

“You can't have both, Misaki. Either magic exists or you were wrong.”

The ice cream was melting all over his hand. He tried to save what was left of the ice cream on the cone. “So…that's a thing.”

“For lack of a better explanation, yes.”

“Could you do that?”

Saruhiko shrugged and crunched the cone. “So this girl.”

Yata groaned. “Come on, man.” He rubbed his head with the non-sticky hand and took a couple more desperate licks of the cone. “I just thought she’d know something, that she’d be helpful. Cause it was like, a family thing.”

“Well obviously, you should’ve asked me first.”

“Right, right. Rub it in, why don’t you? I give you permission to gloat.” Yata looked at the traces of green tea down his arm and raised his wrist to his face, licking up the trails on his arm. He pulled his arm away, licked his lips, then looked over Saruhiko. He was watching him, and Yata didn’t know what his expression was, kinda blank, but still attentive. “What?”

Saruhiko blinked and looked away. “Nothing. You’re just disgusting.” The heat must’ve been affecting him badly; there was a pink blush from the bridge of his nose to the tip of his ears.

“How else was I supposed to get it off?”

Saruhiko shrugged and finished off his cone, sucking the last bit of ice cream off his long fingers. 

Now Yata found himself staring, though he wasn’t sure what exactly he was focusing on. “Hypocrite,” he managed to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a playlist of music for this fic that I listen to whenever I write at home, or whenever I need inspiration. I don't know how to use 8tracks yet, don't know which of the three Hoizer/Daughter songs are most relevant to use, and don't have a cover art, so have this youtube playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLX6H82h9tJo3LQj1Fdt27PqpdgCIz3L97
> 
> It'll also be added to the story notes, for easy access later chapters. If that's a thing you're interested. I apologize in advance for the pitched Katy Perry song.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. Shadows, Of the Physical and Metaphorical

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear that more stuff happened in this chapter when I wrote it.....Oh well, more supernatural stuff!

Yata's father knocked on the door. “Misaki, can we talk?”

Yata paused his game and sat up. “Yeah, sure.”

He settled down on the bed, and paused for a long moment.

Yata wasn't sure if he was meant to start the conversation, so he started talking. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. So what's up?”

“Fushimi is your friend, correct?”

“Yeah. Saru. Saruhiko. My only friend too,” he added, for some reason. It felt like something he should've done.

His father nodded, staring into a cluttered corner of Yata’s room. “Have you noticed anything off about him?”

“Well yeah, he's Saru. I've told you about him before.” Never in detail, because he always seemed so hard to pin down even in the simplest terms. But he was mentioned, often.

“So you have. But I was thinking more…unexplainable, nothing to do with his personality, but his behavior.”

“He's good at math?” Yata said, his heart in his throat. What was this about?

“Misaki, if you could.”

“I don't understand what you're talking about though. Like, what's with this?”

“Someone has expressed concern for him.”

“Is it someone he knows?” It sounded almost silly, Saruhiko knowing someone. Someone else caring for Saruhiko. But Yata did remember the time Saruhiko got called to the office—almost a year ago now, he realized absently—and the uncharacteristic concern the faculty had for the boy who was too smart to bother. Maybe that was this case too.

But Yata’s father shook his head. “I cannot say. Does it matter?”

“Yeah, it matters. Saru’s my friend. And as far as I know, I’m the only one who cares about him. So if there’s another person…”

“The person doesn’t matter.”

“Then why are we talking about this?”

“Misaki, I feel like you’re avoiding the topic. That you’re hiding something.”

“I’m not. Can we stop?”

His father stared, sighed, brushed his hair back and kissed his head. “Alright, Misaki.”

Yata picked up his game.

“If anything comes up—”

“I know.”

\---

Yata still loved his family. Secrets and all. They were there for him, and really, that was all that mattered. The entire apartment building took care of him, and if anyone in school talked about them, Yata would proudly wear the bruises he got defending them.

But he’d never let Saruhiko meet them, even if they asked.

\---

“Sorry,” Yata said instead of greeting Saruhiko.

“That's odd.”

Yata scratched his head. “I think I just made trouble for you.”

“How dare you make me come out to the arcade.”

“Not that, idiot.”

“Then what is it?”

“That girl. From before. Who I talked to about the bug thing. She asked who it happened to, and I didn't want to say Shinji, so I…”

“Said me.”

“Said a friend, and then blurted your name by mistake.”

“Said me,” Saruhiko repeated.

“Yeah. And apparently, that was a big deal because my dad asked me about you.”

“And did you—”

“No. Fuck, no, never. I'm not that stupid. I got stubborn on his ass.”

“Good. Then it doesn't matter.”

“Saru…”

Saruhiko walked into the arcade. It seemed so like him to just walk away, but Yata could feel that gulf.

\---

“Why did you ask her?”

Yata didn't look up from his game. The road spun in front of him, the wheel resisting him. “I thought she'd understand. And she always asked me not to tell my parents. I thought it went the same way.”

“You should yell at her.”

“Saru.”

“You yell a lot. That should be easy for you.”

“She's a girl.”

“So?”

Well that was a stupid question. “You don't yell at girls? You gotta be nice to them?”

“Why?”

“You serious? They're girls, that should be obvious.”

“You haven't told me why it matters.”

“It just does, Saru.”

\---

Yata hated when Saruhiko had a point, but he didn’t know what he was supposed to do about Mako, didn’t know how to approach her as a girl, let alone with that subject. It was so un-Yata, so against every little bit of his being.

So he’d let it go.

\---

Mako texted Yata, all happy and cute and Yata almost blushed before he remembered how distant Saruhiko was. Yata curled over his phone and forced out a sentence, a proper sentence.

**Yata (XX:XX):**  
**Did you tell my parents. Like. Why? Why would you do that? I thought we didn’t talk about that. I thought we kept some things secret. Because we’re similar. My best friend is in danger. Do you realize what that means? You talk about Rin, but you guys lived in different cities right? Saru is my world and you’ve endangered the only thing that matters. Why?**

Yata wished he could be Saruhiko, wished he could just be mad, just not care about anything. Fuck if Mako if was a girl, she needed to be yelled at. Yata needed answers, answers from someone. 

Yata deleted the message and sent her a smiley face.

\---

Shinji called the house. Yata sat in the living room and listened to half the conversation. When he got the phone, Shinji seemed really awkward. He really wanted to say something, Yata could tell, but in the end, Shinji wished him luck and hung up.

\---

Yata wished he could spend more time with Saruhiko. They had their weekly allowance eater, and their various conversations throughout the week, but Yata wanted to see him more, in person.

“Go to the park with me.”

“Ew.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Let's not. It's too hot.”

“It'd be less hot if you wore something else.” Technically true. While Yata was a sweaty mess in a tank top, Saruhiko was boiling in his uniform. That he still insisted on wearing. It was mildly concerning. Okay, incredibly concerning, but asking the homeless orphan to get clothes seemed like a bad idea, especially if it was Saruhiko. “Take off the jacket at least.”

“I thought you said I looked good in layers.”

“You're going to die of heatstroke and you're going to blame me for it aren't you?”

“Of course.”

Yata pouted and walked to the next game. “At least give me a good reason to not go to the park.”

“What would we even do?”

“There's plenty of things to do at a park. It's a park.”

“Misaki, if you can't give me a concrete answer, then that means you don't have a good reason.”

“Don't call me Misaki.”

“And now you're further covering up your lack of a good response with deflection. Please try harder.”

“Shut up you stupid monkey!” Yata yelled and the lights of the arcade flickered and died. The sun still illuminated a good portion of the room, and the lighting was always kinda terrible to begin with, but Yata still felt it was a stark change.

“You tried too hard, Misaki,” Saruhiko said at his side. Yata's eyes hadn't accustomed to the light yet and Saruhiko was a vague shadow.

“I didn't do that,” Yata hissed, blinking rapidly until Saruhiko got his shape back.

“That was a joke,” Saruhiko said. He was looking around in the darkness. He stared at something in the corner. Yata looked around him and squinted. He couldn't see anything different in the shadows. He blinked, thought something moved in that split second when he wasn't looking, though he was sure there was nothing there to begin with.

“Sorry boys,” the owner said behind him, and Yata jumped and turned. Saruhiko clicked his tongue. He took off the sunglasses he always wore, even inside, and gave them both a small smile. “Wiring hasn't improved yet. Here, lemme give your coin back.”

“Don't worry about it,” Saruhiko muttered and walked out of the store.

The owner blinked and offered the money to Yata, and he raised his hands. “It's his money.” Yata stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “The arcade isn't closing, is it?” The arcade had passed through a lot of hands. When Yata first moved to the city, it was owned by an old man. Then it passed to this guy, practically the opposite of him, with bleached blonde hair and the smell of cigarettes. Yata liked this young guy though, didn’t want the arcade to change hands again or become yet another abandoned store.

The owner shook his head. “We're hanging on. Money’s tight,” he pointed at the lights, then shook his head. “I hope to get it so we don't have the mood lighting all the time. I can't replace half of these bulbs, so I just move them so the light’s even.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Thought that was the arcade atmosphere.”

“It's the broke business aesthetic.”

“Oh.”

“I'm not planning on closing though,” he assured Yata. “Not when I have such loyal customers. And my one friend would cry.” He shook his head. “I bought it for him, in exchange for his restaurant.”

“Misaki,” Saruhiko called from the outside, glaring at the owner.

Yata winced and turned back to the owner, who was shaking his head. “Sorry about him. He's prickly.”

The owner nodded. “I worry about him.”

“Yeah.”

“Seeing kids wearing their uniforms in this heat…Makes me wonder about some of their parents. What they think of their kids.”

“Saru doesn't have any parents.”

The owner shrugged. “Makes me wonder. At least he's got you.”

Yata was glad that the darkness hid his blush.

\---

Since their arcade time was cut short, they ended up just sitting in the alley. Yata found the finger skateboard in his pocket and laid on his stomach next to Saruhiko and did some tricks. “So this sucks,” Yata said. 

Saruhiko hummed.

“It's be better if we were at the park.”

“Don't lie so blatantly to me.”

“I mean, it could be better.”

“I doubt it.”

Yata did a kickflip. “You could watch me skateboard.”

“Do you know how to?”

“No, but I can learn.”

“I'm not watching you wipe out over and over again.”

“I wouldn't wipe out that much.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue.

Yata shifted on the sidewalk. “Did you see anything in there?”

“Kusanagi.”

“Who?”

“The owner.”

“Is that his name? How do you know that?”

“He wore a name tag, Misaki,” Saruhiko said, tossing a pebble down the alley.

“Did he? I didn't notice. And anyway, not him. You were staring in the corner. Reminded me of this cat I used to have. Always stared into nothing.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Anyway, cat might've been stupid, but I saw something too where you were staring.”

Saruhiko turned to Yata, his eyes wide. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

Saruhiko turned away and muttered into his hand, like he was having a debate with himself. “What did you see?”

“I don't know. But something moved. I just didn't see it.”

Saruhiko sighed. “I hate that that sentence actually made sense.”

“Really?”

“Your cat wasn't stupid, by the way. You just weren't looking hard enough. You still weren't, or you would've actually seen it.”

“You could see it?”

“Clearly.”

“What did it look like?”

Saruhiko shrugged. “If you saw it, you'd understand. It's not something that can be described in any language.”

“But I didn't see it.”

“Then look harder, Misaki. If you even caught a glimpse of that, who knows what else you've been missing out on.”

Yata did another trick, and flubbed it. The skateboard flipped out under his fingers and slid away. “I bet you’d know.”

“Yeah,” Saruhiko said, and pulled his legs closer to his chest.

\---

Yata hadn't considered looking to be an active thing, but when he actually put effort into seeing, it was amazing how much he missed out on. The little shivers he got weren't just an odd reaction, they were him seeing without recognizing. Tricks of the light made shadows. He didn't understand everything he saw, but that wasn't what was important. It was the fact that he began noticing things. So Yata made mental notes whenever something caught his eye and made him stare. How it made him feel.

Even still, Yata felt like he was noticing odd things: The ways the shadows settled along the wall. How the lights flickered on when he stepped out in the apartment in the middle of the night, and in that flash anything could happen. Saruhiko’s hands, how the fingers were long and bony, how the slightest bit of heat turned his fingertips pink. Saruhiko’s wrists, thin enough for Yata’s fingers to wrap around and overlap, the fact that even in the summer that he was so pale that his veins were like bright blue branches, that sometimes the veins would start to bulge (at the jackpot game, at some other ones, when he got irritated, sometimes when Yata didn't understand what he was thinking). Saruhiko’s eyes, how bright they were, how whenever Yata looked at him, he’d find himself staring into an ocean before Saruhiko turned away.

Yata wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with that information.

\---

While Shinji was on the phone with his mother, Yata’s father asked him to ask Shinji about Eric. “Keep it casual. It's very important. Can you do that, Misaki? I'm counting on you. We all are.”

Yata nodded, didn't trust his voice otherwise. It felt slimy, the insistence to be casual, and Yata realized that he was supposed to deceive his brother. But he was needed. He didn't know how, or why, but he was needed. And the fact he could do something made it all better.

The phone was finally passed to him. “Hey Shinji,” Yata greeted.

“Hey,” Shinji said. He sounded better than before. He sounded drained, but he asked Yata about his summer. “It’s almost over, yeah?” Yata realized school would be starting soon and nothing eventful had happened. 

In the middle of the conversation, their parents picked up the other headset and cradled it between them. Yata turned so he wouldn't see them.

“So how's it over there?” Yata asked.

“I'm learning a lot,” he said quickly. It felt like how Yata answered questions about school, automatic, meant to appease. “Yeah. It's interesting.”

“Yeah? Cool. So hey, how's Eric doing?”

“Eric?”

“Yeah. Eric.” Yata had no clue what casual was when he never asked about him before. “He looks like a little shit. Acts like one too. My age.”

“I know who Eric is,” Shinji muttered.

“Yeah. Is he still annoying?”

“I guess. He's fine. Same old. I didn't think you were close.”

Lying would be too obvious, so Yata told the truth. “We aren't. But he's the same age as me. And I'm close with Mako so. You know.”

“Yeah, well he's good.”

“That's good.”

“Hey, I've got to go then. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

Yata hung up and looked over at his parents. They hung up their phone and stared at each other.

\---

It was the last free day. School would be starting soon. Saruhiko didn't want to go to the arcade, so Yata went alone. Kusanagi walked up to him as he tried to work the jackpot machine. “Where's Saru?”

“He didn't have the energy.”

“Sounds like him.”

Yata wondered if they were close at all, or if Kusanagi was familiar with Saruhiko and Saruhiko tolerated him until Yata showed up. It seemed likely. Kusanagi was a pretty friendly guy. Yata gave up on the jackpot game and turned to Kusanagi, who had already started to walk away. “Lights look good.” For one, the power was on. There was still that vague mood lighting, dimmed out bulbs still scattered around, but it was brighter.

Kusanagi looked up at the lights and smiled. “My friends pitched in to help. I had to promise to barkeep for them when I get my license.”

“Not really helping then, is it?”

“No it is. Just teasing, you know.”

Yata thought. He supposed that it did make sense, he just couldn't apply it him and Saruhiko. There wasn't that teasing dancing when it came to helping each other. There was plenty of teasing, but if Yata asked, Saruhiko would always be there, except when he flat out refused. And Saruhiko never asked, but Yata would do what he wanted without hesitating. It was kinda scary to admit that, even just to himself. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Kusanagi started to say something else, but Yata heard something. It made him pause, so he listened. It was above him, like a winged bug banging it's head against glass. Yata looked up, but there was no bug caught in the light above him.

“What's up?”

“I just heard something,” Yata said, barely finishing the sentence before the bulb above him popped. Kusanagi glanced up, and then fixed his gaze on Yata. Yata shifted uncomfortably. “I didn't do that.”

“What? Oh, yeah, I know.”

“Then stop glaring,” Yata muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Kusanagi raises his hands and takes a couple steps back. “Sorry. It's just…I wouldn't expect you to hear something, that's all.”

It felt like something his family would say, that vagueness. Saruhiko did it sometimes, and now Yata knew what that meant. Yata kicked the floor, shifted a bit, glanced up at him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Have you ever—”

Yata's phone rang, and Kusanagi went quiet. “Yeah, let me just…”

“You're good.”

“It's my mother,” Yata muttered, embarrassed, then answered. “Yeah—”

“ _Misaki_ ,” she started, and her voice was torn. She had been crying. “Oh good, you're alright.”

Yata's heart was in his throat. What had happened? “Yeah, I'm here, what's—”

“Misaki, where are you, Misaki?”

“I'm at—I'm at the arcade.”

Her voice went distant, talking to someone else. “He's at the arcade. Yes, that one, hurry.”

“Hey, what's—”

“Is there anybody else there?”

“Just the owner.”

“You need to get home, right now.”

Yata looked over at Kusanagi. Yata pointed at his phone and started walking backwards. Kusanagi sighed and then smiled and waved him away. Yata nodded and ran out. “What’s going on?”

“Yukimura is heading your way. Stay on the major roads. Stay on the phone. Don’t hang up, Misaki, keep talking to me.”

Yata started running through the streets. “Mother, what’s wrong, what’s going on.”

“Eric’s gone.”

Yata tripped over a bit of sidewalk. He didn’t fall, but he wished he did. If he did fall, if he did scrape his skin raw, then that would explain why he was shaking. He was cold in summer. He almost dropped his phone he was shaking so badly. “What was…what does that mean?”

“Eric was kidnapped. He was taken away. His brother and some other boys disappeared too. We don’t know if they did it, or if someone took them too. But they were specifically after Eric.”

Yata leaned against a building. It was so bright, but Yata could barely see.

“Misaki, talk to me, Misaki, please Misaki I need to know that you’re alright.”

“I’m here…” Yata blinked, saw the sun light up spots in front of his vision. “I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm predicting that Yata's school year will end in about two chapters, which will mean more freedom for other canon characters! Of course, since I'm planning two chapters, it'll end up being five.
> 
> Thank you for reading and for all your patience with inconstant updates when I end up getting distracted by Fire Emblem!


	9. Smudging At the Edges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't get this out as soon as I would've liked because I kept adding scenes and realizing that I needed to explain other things, but it's a longer chapter because of it and look at this glacial build starting to melt!!

Yukimura picked Yata up a block away from the spot where Yata froze in the summer heat. Yata hung up after his mother was assured that he was safe. He leaned over the car seat and tapped Yukimura’s arm until he glanced in the rear view mirror. “Shinji was there, right? With the others?” Yata asked. He put his hand back on his lap when he realized he was shaking, that the thought that Eric and the others were gone was terrifying to him.

“Yes, our sunshine,” Yukimura said softly. “He was.”

“Did he get out all right?”

“We haven’t heard from him.”

Yata tried calling Shinji himself. It went straight to voicemail. He started texting him, but Yata wasn't sure if that meant anything. His phone probably wasn't on. Or was smashed. His stomach tossed and he fell back against the seat. Yata thought about every news report, every drama he was too young to watch, every warning teachers gave in school. Child abduction, one with purpose. It wasn't just Eric, it was his brother, other members of that family. That wasn't random. His mother thought he'd be next. Maybe Mako got the same frantic call from her parents. He stared at his phone, pulled up the sparse list of contexts.

Yata texted Saruhiko instead.

**Yata (12:30)**   
**Is it bad form to skip the first day back**

**Stupid Monkey (12:31)**   
**Yes but who cares?**   
**Stupid Monkey (12:32)**   
**What's wrong?**

**Yata (12:33)**   
**If I skipped, could I go to your house?**

Saruhiko didn't respond until Yata was home, then texted him an address.

**Stupid Monkey (12:55)**   
**If you're actually serious about this.**   
**Stupid Monkey (12:56)**   
**Just text me when you get there so I can help you.**

Yata smiled and relaxed, curling on the bed.

\---

Before Yata went to sleep, he heard his mother crying to his father. He said that he and others were going out to try to find the missing. Some would stay behind as well to watch over the apartment, to make sure Yata wasn’t taken as well. Yata put the pillow over his head and tried to force himself to go to sleep. His anxiety whispered to him, telling him he was next. He didn’t sleep well at all.

\---

Yata wasn't allowed to bike to school, not until they figured out what happened to Eric and the others. One of the adults in the complex drove him, and dropped him off at the gate. It meant that Yata had to walk back into town and then out of it again to get to where Saruhiko's house was. 

Yata looked it up after Saruhiko texted him, curious to see where Saruhiko called home. Yata didn't know where the bad parts of town started, but Saruhiko certainly didn’t live in a normal place. It was in the warehouse district. He couldn't imagine anyone living there, didn't know anyone who did.

Well, he did now.

And Saruhiko apparently lived in an alleyway. Yata shouldn't have been surprised. Saruhiko practically said it without actually saying it over a dozen times. But still. It looked like a horrible place, the definition of seedy. Yata stepped into the alley, looked around. He expected people, shady people with knives out in the open, with cigarettes and bloody knuckles. Homeless people, huddled in a trash heap, not the kind who looked sad when people pass, but ones who looked angry, who are desperate enough to take. But there was no one there. The alleyway was still. Yata walked slowly through the alley, stopped in front of a smear dull brown splashed on the ground and up the alley wall. Yata wondered how dirt got up the wall, higher than his head.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he went cold. His heartbeat tripled and echoed in his ears. He wasn't alone anymore. Fingers looped around his wrist, fingertips pressed against his pulse, and for a long second, Yata wasn't sure if it was someone, not something.

Then Yata heard “Misaki,” and he knew he was safe. Yata let out a long breath of air and slumped against the muddy wall. “What's your problem?” Saruhiko muttered.

“You fucking snuck up on me,” Yata groaned, staring at the wall.

Saruhiko was silent. “Were you seriously scared?”

“Yeah, I get seriously scared when things are seriously creepy.”

“Misaki, I'm the scariest thing here.”

“Yeah, I figured that out when you fucking snuck up behind me.” Yata pulled his hand back and wiped it on his pants. “Dirty wall…”

“That isn’t dirt. And I didn't sneak, you just didn't hear me.”

“Why were you behind me anyway?”

Saruhiko shrugged and walked down the alley. Yata sighed and followed a couple steps behind him. Saruhiko looked over his shoulder at Yata and grabbed his wrist and pulled him along a bit faster.

Yata wasn't skinny, especially not as skinny as Saruhiko, but Saruhiko's fingers were long and they nearly met. That made Yata blush, for some reason. It was probably because he was being manhandled (though that did not explain why he was fixated on the curve of Saruhiko’s fingers). “Hey, what are you doing?” Yata meant for that to sound irritated, but the syllables dragged as he spoke and came out far more flushed than he’d ever admit to feeling.

“You should still move faster.” At the end of the alley, the road curved along a building. The glass was shattered, but the windows were boarded up. In front of the building was a metal shipping container. There was a tarp over the top, connected to a window of the warehouse with thick layers of duct tape. Saruhiko dragged Yata to the opening of the container and squeezed into the gap. 

Yata stared at Saruhiko’s home. Considering that it was a shipping container, it was rather nice on the inside, or at least somewhat filled. There were a few appliances, a mini fridge and a kotatsu, with wires stretching up the walls and up to the roof, but no oven or stove. The kitchen area was surrounded by plastic storage containers filled with instant food. Yata wasn't sure how he cooked them. He had a futon on the far end of the container, and mountains of clothes around it. He had two computers. Bare light bulbs hung randomly along the walls, secured with duct tape. All the wires and cords coiled up to the roof, through a hole. That was probably what the tarp was for.

“Oh my god it's a shithole.” Yata put down his schoolbag and sat at the kotatsu. “I like it. You need posters though. Or maybe colorful duct tape. It's not bright enough. Not homey enough.”

Saruhiko sighed and sat down across from Yata, leaning on the kotatsu. “It's a shipping container. It's not really a home.”

“Home is wherever you are.”

“You have a promising career as a greeting card.”

“I'm serious, you know.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue.

Yata stood up and started roaming. Saruhiko just watched him play with the lights, inspect the food, and only moved when Yata got close to the futon. “Awfully forward of you, Misaki.”

Normally, that would've set Yata off on a blushing stuttering wave, but the fact that Saruhiko jogged to get to him made the insult carry less weight. Yata only turned red. “Uh-huh,” Yata said in the most bored and unenthusiastic tone he could manage. It was still embarrassing. Yata stepped around Saruhiko and looked at the clothes. “These can't all be your uniform.”

Saruhiko didn't say anything. 

“Ha! Blue shirt! Not a uniform! You've got clothes now!”

“Why are you yelling?”

Yata stopped dramatically pointing at the clothes he spotted and turned. “I'm just happy you've got clothes.”

“Weirdo.”

“I've known you for a year and you've always worn that uniform. Not weird.”

“Fine,” Saruhiko muttered.

“Can I see you in one of those?”

Saruhiko stared. Alright, Yata would admit that was weird. But he didn't take it back, stared at Saruhiko until he sighed and grumbled, walking over to one of the piles and shifting through the shirts. “Fine, fine…” he undid his belt and Yata yelled. “What?”

“You can't change in front of me!”

“Why not?” Saruhiko asked, undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“Don't ask that! You know why not!”

“I actually don't, Misaki.” Saruhiko said blandly. Oh fuck he was serious.

“It's embarrassing!”

“You have seen yourself naked right? There's not much of a difference.” He continued unbuttoning his shirt.

“It's different when it's another person!”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “Do you get this freaked out before gym?”

Yata opened his mouth, then shut it. “This is different,” he insisted.

Saruhiko maintained eye contact and pulled off his belt with a quick tug. Yata yelled again. Saruhiko threw his belt at him. “Idiot.” And he pulled his shirt off. 

And Yata stared. 

Saruhiko was skinny; Yata always knew that. He saw his wrists, knew there wasn't anything but bone under that pale skin. But shirtless Saruhiko was different, highlighted his skinniness. It made it real. His ribs were easily seen, and his elbows showed the indent of the joint. He wasn't gaunt, wasn’t obviously starving, but he still felt like a walking skeleton. The paleness didn't help, and he obviously didn't make use of any of those sunny days to get any tan. The only bit of color on him was ink, a black and red scrawl of a tattoo on his collarbone. It was a stylized candle flame, that curved around in thick circles.

Yata walked over to Saruhiko and he raised his eyebrow. Yata lifted his hands and slapped them on over Saruhiko's waist. Saruhiko jumped and stared at Yata, and Yata just stared at his hands, how they fit. Goosebumps prickled over Saruhiko's skin. “Misaki?” Saruhiko finally whispered.

“Eat a sandwich. Seriously. Like, I can see your kidneys.”

Saruhiko pushed his shirt into Yata's face. “Moron,” he hissed.

\---

Yata couldn't stay long, and they both knew it. Yata mentioned—when his back was turned to Saruhiko so he could put on black slacks—that he was getting driven to school now, so he had to be on time. Saruhiko paused, and when Yata looked over his shoulder, Saruhiko was just staring with his eyebrow raised, waiting for an explanation. Yata didn't elaborate. Saruhiko didn't ask.

So they lounged at the kotatsu and just talked. Yata kept interrogating Saruhiko about his house. “Where do you go to the bathroom?”

“Down the road is a public restroom.”

“What if you have to pee in the middle of the night?”

“I have a bucket.”

“Ew.”

“Then I dump it in the river.”

“People drink that water.”

“It's next to the warehouse; nobody drinks that.”

“What about showers?”

“I fill a basin with water next door. I have membership at a gym too, so once a week I get a full body shower. But you only need a couple of inches of water to get clean.”

“You're hardcore, Saru.” And he was. Yata had spent a small stretch of time without supervision when his mother left. He remembered crying, starving and stressed and he didn’t know what else to do. He wouldn't last. But Saruhiko thrived. He wasn't living glamorously, but he was living, surviving. Yata wished he had half of the life Saruhiko had, or at least a quarter of the skill needed to live that way.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “You're easily impressed, Misaki.”

\---

Saruhiko walked him to the entrance of the alley an hour before school would let out. He stopped when the road started to dip down into the street. “Call me if you decide to come, okay? Give me some warning.”

“Yeah,” Yata said, turning around and facing him. “I'll be back “

They stared at each other. Saruhiko looked like he was waiting for something. Yata realized he was waiting too. He didn't know what he wanted to happen. Yata took a step back, scratched his head, and turned away. “See you at school.”

“Yeah.”

Yata walked away. He looked over his shoulder after a block. Saruhiko was still there, leaning against the alley wall, watching him leave. Yata grinned and waved, watched as Saruhiko clicked his tongue and looked away.

\---

Saruhiko had changed his clothes when Yata visited. He wore a blue button up, black slacks, and technically a tie, which was knotted near the center of his chest. His sleeves were rolled up, and he didn't wear shoes.

Yata didn't know why this was important, but he was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and couldn’t get that out of his head. That felt like the most important information he could ever hope to get.

\---

Yata was going to start going to school on his own again. They hadn't found the kids, and no one had come for Yata. They still wanted him to stay safe though, carry something to protect himself. Mimi offered him her pepper spray, but he refused. That small thing wouldn't make him feel dangerous, capable. He asked for a baseball bat, remembering how he felt back in elementary school. He used to be on a team, remembered how the crack of a successful hit rang in his ears and when he ran he felt like he could just fly away.

He didn't know if it's have the same effect against a human, but the bat felt right in his hand.

\---

A month later, Shinji came back. He was unshaven, his hair was in a ponytail, and he looked like he hadn't known what a good night’s sleep was in a month. His mother started crying as soon as he walked in and wrapped him into a hug. Shinji just stood there and let it happen. 

Yata focused on him, like he focused on the unseen things. It didn't seem like Shinji was standing there. It was someone else, or there was something missing from Shinji. But Yata didn't see anything.

“We've been looking for you,” his mother sobbed. “Everyone, we've been looking. Your father—he's out looking. Oh, let me call him.”

“Don't,” Shinji muttered. Yata lurked around the corner and stared at him. He felt like hugging him, but it felt like it would be uninvited. “Don’t get his hopes up.”

“Shinji?” Yata asked, slowly.

Shinji ignored him and rubbed his eyes. “I'm just here for my stuff. I underestimated how much I needed. I'm not staying.”

Yata ran forward then. “Wait, what? Shinji, what do you mean? Why are you leaving?”

“Because of you!” Shinji snapped. Yata went cold.

“Misaki,” his mother said, turning to him now. Shinji muttered to himself. “Get to another room, Misaki. I'll talk to him.”

Yata didn't need to be told twice. Yata went to his room, and out the window as he called Saruhiko. His mother started frantically speaking, and he heard her past his door. “Is something wrong? Is it those who took you? You can tell me. Who took you?”

Shinji was in his room, Yata could hear him. “Nobody. Nobody.”

Saruhiko picked up the phone. “My brother ran away before,” Yata blurted out when he heard the beginnings of his name. “But now he's back, just to yell and…and fucking leave again. And I think it's my fault.”

His mother was franticly speaking and she was so loud. “What about Eric? Where is Eric?”

“It's probably not your fault,” Saruhiko said as Yata burned on the escape.

Yata covered his ear, as if it could block them out. “You don't know that.”

Shinji laughed. “Fuck, it all comes down to them. Kaden, Ryo, Sakura…they left too, but who cares right? Whatever happens to the—” he choked and reached. 

“Yeah, I don't. But it's what you wanted to hear. Otherwise you wouldn't have called me.”

Yata heard Shinji’s name being called over and over as he choked and his mother yelled about bugs. “Distract me.”

“How?”

“Tell me about your tattoo.”

“It's not…”

“I've spent a week trying to figure out how to explain this. And I can't because of _your_ curse!”

“It's not important,” Saruhiko finished.

“Well it's cool.”

“Thanks, I suppose.”

They were quiet, and Yata could hear his family again. He tried to block them out, make their voices noises without words, but he heard was “they beat him!” and Yata curled around his phone again. “Are you going to do another year of school?” Yata asked.

Saruhiko chuckled on the other end. “You must be desperate for a distraction of we're talking about school.”

“I'm serious.”

“If you're there, Misaki,” Saruhiko said.

Shinji was in the hallway now, and Yata heard him yell through the door. “It’s not worth what we’re doing to them!”

Yata forced a laugh for Saruhiko. “I hope I'm not. I wonder if I can just drop out. If I don't go to school, can I hang at yours?”

“I don't know why you'd want to, but I won't stop you.”

“That means you want me there, right?”

The door slammed. Yata's mother opened the door and pleaded to Shinji to wait.

“What makes you say that?” Saruhiko muttered.

Yata tilted his head back against the wall, hitting it hard enough that his ears rang. “Because you didn't say no.”

\---

It was almost an hour later before Yata's mom came back. Yata was in his room by then, playing a video game. She walked into the room, and for a second, Yata felt relaxed. Her eyes were puffy and red, but they were dry. She hadn't been crying recently. But then she looked at Yata and broke. She sat on the bed and hugged him, pulled him onto her lap like he was ten again, only this time he was comforting her. “Misaki, don't leave us, Misaki. Stay with me, Misaki. Promise me, Misaki.”

Yata wrapped his arms around her and held her. “I promise. I promise.”

“You can't leave us, our sunshine.”

“I'm not. No. Never. I'm staying. I promise.”

\---

Yata liked promises. He liked when heroes made promises. People trusted them. They were like unbreakable vows, more binding than a contract. He liked wedding vows too, even though he thought weddings were boring. When two people married, their relationship changed. That new relationship needed new rules to follow. No exception.

Yata made promises to himself all the time along that line, that each relationship had a basic guideline that had to be followed. Family took care of each other no matter what (and he was left alone). Friends stood by each other (and those three just laughed at him).

He wouldn't be the one to break a promise. Never.

\---

Yata waited around corners to hear conversations he wasn’t meant to hear. He wanted to know what was happening with Shinji. The most interesting one was about how Shinji got in, considering people were watching. All of the people who were supposed to be watching mentioned butterflies and then they were awake again.

Yata wondered if he had seen the butterflies, if he focused on them if he’d see something else.

\---

Yata stood in front of the police station, trying to work up the courage to go in. Everyone seemed to accept that Shinji was gone and that was the end of it. They called everyone back and that was just fucking it. Weren't they at least going to make an effort?

Well, Yata would make the effort for them. But Yata didn't know if he could file a missing person’s report. He didn't want to be laughed at.

A man walked out of the police station. He looked important, with a long blue coat. He fixed his glasses and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket.

Yata ran up to him. “Yo! Sir!”

The man hummed and turned to him.

“I got a question,” Yata said, then barreled on, “if my brother ran away from home, and I don't know where he is, and I think he changed his number, and he's a teenager, eighteen now so I'm not sure if he's enough of an adult that we don't care anymore, and he threw a fit while leaving can I say he's a missing person and get people to find him?”

The man blinked for a couple seconds. “Unfortunately, I'm not a cop, so I can't answer your question.”

Yata flushed. “Oh. Well.” The man had a plastic smiling mask for a face, and Yata turned his embarrassment into anger. “Then why are you so fancy coming out of a police station! It’s misleading!”

He looked down at his clothes and chuckled. “This is just the uniform for my job.”

“What’s your job then?” Yata didn’t know any jobs that required fancy coats.

The man smiled, a bit too wide for Yata to be comfortable. Yata didn’t know if it was genuine or not. “I am part of system of a relatively small group of people that share a similar belief combatting other systems of people who share concurrent but ultimately more sinister views.”

Yata’s brain short-circuited. 

“Of course, we also have an interest in limiting the influence of oddities. If you happen to notice anything, you can give us a call.” And the man pulled out a business card and handed it to Yata.

Yata took it. The card was bare, with the name “Munakata Reisi” at the top and a phone number underneath it and some pretty swirly design around the card to fill up the space. Yata tilted the card a couple of times, watching the light glint off of the blue ink, then handed back to Munakata.

He kept smiling and Yata was pretty sure that even though his face didn’t change at all, the smile was now mocking. “You’re supposed to keep it.”

“I don’t need it.”

“You might someday, should you find yourself in need of my services.”

Yata had no clue what his services even were. Yata pocketed it anyways and walked away from Munakata. He didn’t end up going to the police station that day.

\---

Yata gave up on Shinji as well. He hated to give up on his brother, but in the end, Yata wasn’t even sure that Shinji saw him as a brother. He certainly didn’t act like it at the end. 

And that was the end of it.

\---

It was getting cold again. Yata and Saruhiko still picked at the plastic covering over the hole, though now Yata had to stop and talk against his fingers before they turned blue. “Do you freeze in that crate?”

“I have the kotatsu and a lot of blankets. I just cover the floor.”

“Still sounds horrible though.”

“I don't mind it.”

“Badass.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “I'll invest in a heater for you though.”

Yata stopped and stared at him. Saruhiko didn’t stand out normally. He had his contrast of pale skin and dark hair, but that didn’t make him stand out normally, on sunny days. It was cloudy today though, the dark gray warning of a storm, so Saruhiko stood out on that backdrop of gray, almost neon in his monochromatic self. It felt odd to call _Fushimi Saruhiko_ neon, but Yata could only think that as he stared at Saruhiko, who seemed so bright in that moment, so there. 

“If you insist on coming over so often, I'll have to make sure you don't complain.”

His hair seemed soft. Saruhiko clearly never did anything with his hair except comb it. But it seemed soft in that moment, and it made him soft in turn, smudging at his edges. Yata couldn't look away, and even if he could, he was sure that nothing else mattered. The world didn't exist.

Saruhiko snapped his fingers in front of Yata's face. “Misaki.”

“What? Yeah.”

“The bell rang.”

“Oh, okay.” Yata hadn’t even noticed it. It didn’t even exist.

\---

Sometimes, Yata stayed with another family. It was how he got so close to Mimi back when he was first adopted. Usually, his family was gone, in another city, but this time, it was a meeting and he had to spend the time with Mimi and her friends. 

It was the first time he felt like she was babysitting him. Even when he was ten, it felt like they were equals, or at least family. She was a cousin in that way. Yata felt like he was interfering with Mimi’s friends and the conversations they wanted to have. They were talking about their school, about drama of the light, boy kind. Yata was very uncomfortable. He didn't want to hear girls talk about boys. It was romantic stuff, and while it didn't get much more sexual than talking about kissing, the thought of it made Yata sick, like how he felt before a test he knew he'd fail.

They started talking about how to identify crushes, for the sake of one girl who just couldn't tell what was just aesthetic attraction and what was romantic interest. Mimi started explaining and Yata wished he could just leave. “You just start focusing on them. Like, everything just is really cool and you can't look away.”

A girl who lived on the top floor nodded. “That's when I knew I had a crush on Mr. Megumi. I noticed that he brushes his hair behind his ear whenever someone asks a question. Now I look out for it.”

Yata related a bit too much. Not the crush on the teacher part, but the staring. He was doing that with Saruhiko. He turned around in his chair and looked up at them. “Y-you sure?”

Everyone turned to him. Yata turned bright pink and hid half of his face behind the back of the chair. He was regretting everything. He was such an idiot. Three girls, older girls, looking at him. He was going to die and Saruhiko was going to laugh at him. Right. Saruhiko. He took a breath and raised his head and continued, feeling his face turn redder he went on. “I mean, that's a friend thing too, right? You notice stuff about your friends! You hang around them long enough and you start focusing and staring, right? You know, because you care, right? And because they're there so you just zone out and you stare at parts because they're there! That's what friends do!”

And there was silence before Mimi covered her mouth and laughed, and the other girls followed suit. They started teasing him. “Our sunshine has a little light of his own!” Mimi laughed, and the others kept bringing up his crush.

He curled up in his chair and waited for them to stop. He was right, he knew it. If he paid attention to someone, it wasn't a crush, it was just being observant, being a good friend. He knew it.

\---

Yata had a dream where he cupped Saruhiko's elbow so he could feel the bones and okay, that Yata would admit was incredibly weird.

\---

The last day of school, Yata handed Saruhiko a plastic container and chopsticks. “Give me your sandwich. You're eating this.”

Saruhiko blinked at him. “I…excuse me?”

“I made this for you. Since you're so skinny and clearly don’t eat enough. I bet you forget to eat, don’t you? Anyway. It's stir fry. No veggies. Just meat and rice and pineapple curry and it's really good I made it for my parents and they loved it and—”

“Go back to the pineapple curry because, what?”

“It's good. Trust me. And pineapple isn't a vegetable so you shouldn't have problems eating it.”

Saruhiko looked warily down at the container. “Well one of those sentences was correct…” Yata shook the container and he reluctantly traded lunches.

At Saruhiko’s wary and confused look as he settled down on the roof, Yata remembered what the girls said. And he was giving Saruhiko a homemade lunch. It wasn’t a bento box, but the comparison was clear enough. Was he being a girl right now? A girl with a crush? No! Yata was concerned about his best friend and the fact that he never ate! A fact that he knew well because he had seen him shirtless. Oh shit—

“This looks like regurgitated dog shit,” Saruhiko said, wrinkling his nose at the food.

“It tastes better than it looks,” Yata said, snapping out of his daze, somehow able to defend his cooking.

Saruhiko pushed it around with his chopsticks, grimacing. “If I die…”

“I get your stuff right?”

“No, you killed me. Burn everything.” And Saruhiko took a bite. His eyes widened and he stared at the container. “Huh.”

“Yeah?” Yata said, grinning.

“Yeah.” Saruhiko started eating. “Surprising.”

Yata smiled and sat next to Saruhiko and ate his sandwich. Saruhiko ate slowly, so he was still eating when the bell rang. Neither of them moved. It was tradition now.

Yata ended up thinking about the crush thing. Maybe he did have one. He didn't know. Saruhiko was a guy, but he was Yata’s best friend, only friend. That was constant, that was safe. And that was all Yata needed, really. He could worry about things later, if they stayed here, if he still had reason to worry. Until then, he had the rooftop lunches, the stretch of plastic they tore, Saruhiko, and that was them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to physically restrain myself from saying the butterflies were golden.
> 
> You've officially read over 100 pages of this fic. Thank you all for sticking around as I flail my way through the story!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to drop by my tumblr at [TwiExMachina](http://www.twiexmachina.tumblr.com). Let me know what you think!
> 
> [Youtube Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLX6H82h9tJo3LQj1Fdt27PqpdgCIz3L97)


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